


Team Family

by PotionMastersBitch



Category: NCIS
Genre: Age Play, Age Regression/De-Aging, Infantilism, Non-Sexual Age Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-05-20 08:40:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 72
Words: 82,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14891276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotionMastersBitch/pseuds/PotionMastersBitch
Summary: When the Director orders the team to go on a week-long team-bonding 'vacation,' Gibbs just knows things won't go as smoothly as anyone might have hoped for. Especially not with an injured Tony who is susceptible to mentally regressing on a moments notice.





	1. Chapter 1

Gibbs struggled valiantly to contain his abject frustration as he worked on herding his small team of agents toward the oversized van the Director had ‘graciously’ allowed him to commandeer for the impending week-long ‘team-building’ event she had demanded they all attend. And while sad van was of the newer variety, and fully equipped with all those features which would make even the most ardent of gearheads envious, such facts did but little to lessen his pure ire at having been forcefully put in charge of everyone for the duration of such a hellish week. For not only would he have to see to it that everybody arrived, unscathed, to the small hotel located a full four hours away, but so too would he have to make certain that every event on the Director’s itinerary was properly attended to. And while he knew full-well that his agents weren’t any happier than he was about this forced event, Gibbs couldn’t help but maintain his usual gruffness. It wouldn’t do, after all, for his team to start treating the approaching week as a long vacation. 

“I call rifle!” Ziva suddenly exclaimed, her accent only further garbled by a yawn. 

Before Gibbs could so much as disabuse the Israeli of her assumptions, Abby stepped in front of the taller agent and crossed her arms, effectively stalling the brunette’s progress toward the van. 

“Shotgun.” Abby corrected, not unkindly. “But I get the front seat.” 

As Ziva opened her mouth, ever ready with a scathing retort, Gibbs held his hand up to silence her. 

“Neither of you will ride in the front seat.” Gibbs declared sternly. “Ducky gets it.” 

While he would have much preferred to allow Abby or Tony the privilege of riding in such a coveted space, their personalities much more harmonious with his own, the fact still remained that Ducky’s seniority had certainly earned him said seat. 

“But I called dibs on the front seat hours ago.” Tim groused, poking his head out from the back of the hatch as the group approached. 

While the younger man had happily volunteered to load the van, along with Jimmy, Gibbs felt less than charitable at having one of his decrees argued with. 

“McGee,” He growled, “Don’t make me strap you to the roof.” 

Paling at the prospect of seeing one his kinder colleagues strapped unto the roof like a Christmas Tree, Jimmy coughed softly and flinched as Gibbs raised an inquiring brow at him. 

“Uh, Boss, I don’t think Virginia allows for live transports to be-“

“Palmer.” Gibbs interrupted, massaging his temples. “Don’t make me stuff you in the hatch.” 

While he had initially wanted to threaten the ‘Autopsy Gremlin,’ with promises of refueling duty for the duration of the trip, Gibbs wisely refrained. For while Ducky had proven himself time and time again to be of a serene nature, that enviable temperance could quickly turn into contempt where the harsh treatment of his young assistant was involved. 

“He wouldn’t fit.” Tim sassed, struggling ardently to place the fifth of Abby’s seven suitcases in the van. 

Before Gibbs could so much as give the mouthy agent a thorough tongue-lashing, much less an accompanying head-slap, Ziva opened her mouth once more. 

“You must flip it on its side.” Ziva corrected, making no move to assist. “Like Jenga.” 

“Tetris.” Tim corrected tersely. “And I’ve tried flipping it.” 

Wishing to gauge the truthfulness of such a statement for himself, Gibbs sighed loudly his displeasure and moved to investigate the supposed congestion taking place in the hatch. 

“There just isn’t any room.” Jimmy assured him, moving aside to allow him a look. 

True to the Assistant Medical Examiner’s words, the back of the van was filled beyond capacity, with several pieces of poorly-positioned luggage threatening to fall out and concuss one of the clueless loaders at any moment. 

“You two have done the packing the lazy way.” Gibbs scolded, irritated but not at all surprised. “If you had begun the job the right way you could have made everything fit.”

“But-“ 

“Take everything out and start over.” Gibbs demanded, levelling a fierce glare at McGee for having dared interrupt him. 

Looking more than just a little mutinous, if not petulant, McGee grumbled his complaints to his shoes and set to work removing the baggage as quickly as he could- all but ignoring Jimmy’s suggestions that he go about the task in a slower fashion. 

“Tony!” Kate squawked, looking indignant. “Come out here and help them!” 

Having been utterly determined to secure himself a seat as close to Gibbs as reasonably possible, Tony had evidently arrived at the van early and planted himself in the middle seat of the first row. And while such laziness would have ordinally evoked outrage in Gibbs, he let such childish behavior go unchecked as Tony was injured and in need of close supervision. 

“I didn’t ask Tony to help!” Gibbs barked. 

Opting to ignore Kate’s scowl for the sake of his rising blood pressure, Gibbs rolled his eyes and willed the week to be over quickly. 

“Get in the van, ladies.” 

Scrambling to obey before Gibb’s charity could be exhausted, all three women slipped into the awaiting vehicle without protest. Wisely opting to seat themselves in the far back, where they would be relatively safe from head slaps and glares, they quickly arranged themselves to their liking and fell into a whispered conversation that almost surely involved the topic of Abby’s date the previous evening. Wishing not to be made privy to any of the more sordid details, Gibbs moved a few feet away and set to supervising the work of McGee and Palmer. 

“Why does Tony get away with everything?” McGee was grousing to Palmer, sweat dripping down his forehead as he struggled to free a purple suitcase from the small mountain in the hatch. 

“Hey! Be careful with that one!” Kate snapped, glaring over her shoulder at Tim. 

As it turned out, the Brunette’s call for caution soon proved to be well-founded- as moments later the aforementioned luggage came crashing down on Tim’s head alongside a similar black one. 

“Jesus Christ!” McGee cried, rubbing his sore head. “What did you pack in this thing, Abby?” 

Thus said, he gave the offending rectangle a mild kick before reaching for the latches. 

“Do not dare to open that one!” Ziva cried from the back. “It is mine!” 

Unwisely ignoring the Israeli’s warning, Tim flipped up the silver latches and tugged up the suitcase lid even as Jimmy tried, and failed, to push the larger man away in a fit of gallantry. 

“Jeepers!” Tim exclaimed, gingerly holding up a box of tampons. “How many of…’these’…does one person need?”

Gibbs blushed alongside Jimmy as Tim waggled the box in the air, then just as quickly flinched when Kate’s hard-soled shoe made contact with the instigator’s gut. 

“I packed for us all.” Ziva hissed, flinging her own shoe. 

As the rogue projectile inadvertently caught Jimmy on the chin, Gibbs sighed loudly and prayed for patience. 

“Congratulations, McGee.” He quipped. “You’ve just earned yourself the privilege of repacking all by yourself.” 

“But-“ 

“And you’d best make certain that the back windshield is clear of obstruction before you even think of getting in this van.” Gibbs finished, charitably retrieving the fallen footwear. 

“So everyone else just gets to sit inside the air conditioned van while I work my butt off?” Tim demanded, swiping his sweaty brow with the back of his hand. 

“That’s precisely right.” Gibbs assured, tossing the ladies their shoes. 

“I could help!” Jimmy offered, already stooping to pick up a fallen makeup bag. 

“No.” Ducky refused, grabbing his assistant by the arm. “Let us get in the van, Jimmy.” 

Looking unwilling to leave a member of his team to do backbreaking labor all on his own, the ‘autopsy gremlin’ opened his mouth to protest. 

“C’mon, Jimmy!” Tony intervened, leaning out the window. “Come and sit by me!” 

While he looked more than just a little reluctant to obey Tony’s summons, Tim’s dark grumblings soon sent the timid man shuffling for the van.

Much to Gibb’s great displeasure, it nearly took the entirety of an hour for the van to be properly repacked, during which time Ziva had gotten into a heated argument with both Abby and Kate about restraining themselves to their own seat in order to keep from ‘smushing’ into her.

“I swear to God, you three, you do not want to make me separate you before we even take off.” Gibbs warned, glaring over his seat at the girls. “And stop picking on Abby.” He added as an afterthought, taking note of the girl’s wounded expression. 

“Abby is the one jabbing her elbow into me!” Ziva protested. 

Even though the expression on Abby’s face was one of feigned innocence, Gibbs could not help but rise to her defense, for aside from Tony, the young woman was easily his favorite. 

“Then keep yourself out of elbow range.” Gibbs shrugged.


	2. Chapter 2

It was very nearly 10 before they were they were all able to set off, a full two hours past the time Gibbs had initially planned on leaving. And while that, in itself, was more than enough to infuriate the painfully punctual man, the small crew he was currently transporting seemed more than just a little eager to add to his aggravations. For not only were Ziva and Kate currently in the midst of an argument about whether or not the former was turning the pages of her book too ‘aggressively,’ she was, but so too were Jimmy and Ducky passionately discussing the invent of the first motorized vehicle-speaking so loudly in their excitement at some points that they oftentimes drowned out the more ‘exciting’ dialogue coming from the back of the van. Of course, that was only when the discordant symphony of Tim’s and Abby’s snoring didn’t cancel all the rest of the noise out. 

To his great surprise, and vast relief, Tony seemed to be the only one not actively striving to get on his nerves. Snuggled up beneath the green fleece blanket Gibbs had bought him not too long ago, as the ladies had insisted that the van’s air be at an artic level, the young man’s lips were endearingly pursed as he ever-so-carefully used a black glitter pen to color in one of the coloring books Gibbs had wisely stuffed in the glove box in the realization that Tony would very likely need a lot of distraction to survive such a long ride in the van. 

“What’re you coloring?” Gibbs questioned, drawing Tony out of his artistic musings. 

Try as hard as he might, Gibbs just couldn’t remember a Disney princess having ever worn so much black, and Kelly had been utterly obsessed with all things Disney. No doubt this bleaker character was one of those newer creations, of the likes of that Frog Princess or Rope-Hair. 

“Queen Elsa.” Tony informed, never once looking away from the page. 

That must have been a newer character, too, as Gibb’s couldn’t rightly recall ever having seen a Disney movie featuring a queen. 

Opting to leave the subject alone for the moment, as Gibbs felt no great desire to add the contributions of a full-move summery to his rapidly growing headache, he turned his focus back to the woody landscape and contented himself with thinking of all the fishing he get might get done once this hellish week was over. Gradually relaxing as thoughts of giant trout and delicious walleye filled his mind and pushed away the soreness in his head, Gibbs almost contemplated the idea of relaxing his strict ‘no-radio’ policy. In fact, he had just opened his mouth to put forth the query as to which station Abby would prefer, no doubt something that played a variety of heavy metal, when his plans for leniency were thwarted by Tony’s misbehavior. 

Having sneezed quite violently, and subsequently dropped his glitter pen to the floor, the boy had inexplicably decided that unbuckling his seatbelt to better reach for it was the best course of action. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth in Gibbs’s eyes. A staunch stickler for seatbelt safety ever since the car wreck that had taken the lives of his children and wife, he quickly resolved to teach his agent an important lesson about never committing such an act of suicidal stupidity again. Spotting a stop sign not so far off in the distance, he kept his speed, making no efforts at all to slow down to an acceptable pace as Tony fumbled blindly for his fallen pen. It was only when the very real danger of running the stop sign presented itself, that Gibbs slammed on the breaks and sent Tony lurching forward into the center console nestled between the driver and passenger seat. 

“What the fuck?!” Tim cried, jerking awake at the impact as the ladies in the back screeched. 

“Boss!” Abby whined, adding her own voice to the grievances as she frowned despondently at the Caff-Pow now splattered on her shirt. 

“Boss!” Abby whined, adding her own grievances, as she frowning despondently at the Caff-Pow spilled on her shirt. 

While it was easy enough for him to ignore the outrage he had evoked from the majority of his team, excluding Abby, the wounded expression on Tony’s face as he crept slowly back to his seat was nearly insufferable. But as much as Gibbs wanted to apologize and plead for clemency from the boy, he knew he could not yield to such emotions- at least not if he wanted the lesson to prove effective.   
“Don’t ever take your seatbelt off in a moving car again.” Gibbs reprimanded, his gut twisting as Tony’s frowns deepened. 

Unable to leave off on such a harsh note, Gibbs opted to soften the reprimand by pressing the fallen pen into Tony’s palm before setting off again. But while the pout on Tony’s face was initially easy enough to ignore, Gibbs having had much practice doing so with a decidedly stubborn Kelley, the soft sniffles emanating from his favorite soon proved to be the undoing of his parental firmness. 

“Should we stop somewhere for lunch?” He asked the sulking boy, using the promise of food to his advantage. “Somewhere with milkshakes?” 

Green eyes glistening with the promise of such a treat, Tony’s displeasure with his boss was soon forgotten. 

“Nowhere with seafood, please.” Jimmy pipped, turning green at the very thought. 

As Ducky was sitting directly beside Gibbs, he wisely decided to refrain from rolling his eyes as he gave answer to the bespectacled boy. 

“Where the hell do you think we’re going to find seafood this far out in Virginia?” 

Seeing Jimmy deflate under Gibb’s mild disparaging, Ducky quickly rose to his defense. 

“Actually,” The Head Medical Examiner quipped, “I once had the great misfortune of stopping at a nearby place that served expired seafood.” 

“Gross.” Ziva grimaced. “If humans were meant to eat seafood, Hashem would have made us to live in the ocean.” 

“Actually,” Ducky began again, “The practice of humans eating seafood far outdates the rise of Judaism. In fact, many historians-“

Much to the Gibbs’s great delight, Abby tactfully found a way to interrupt the well-read man’s diatribe without any feelings being hurt. 

“Look, Boss!” Abby called, jerking a finger against the glass of her window. “Martha’s Diner!”

Looking to his left as bid, Gibbs did, indeed, see a faded billboard advertising said establishment and proclaiming it to be within an easily traversable five miles. Making up his mind then and there, he carefully merged into the correct lane and heeded the signs simple instructions to, ‘turn left at the boulder.’ 

“I knew a Martha once.” Ducky commented. “She was one of Mother’s friends.” 

“The one that liked to feed you pure sugar?” Abby asked, helplessly falling prey to one of Ducky’s ramblings. 

“The very one.” Ducky assured the Goth. 

Thinking the conversation over, Gibbs relaxed and slowed his speed as he navigated the van down an impossibly narrow gravel road. 

“When was sugar first invented?” Jimmy pestered, effectively ruining Gibbs hopes for a hiatus in such tedious conversations. 

“Most historians believe sugar was utilized as a sweetener around 510 BC in Polynesia before the practice gradually spread to Asia and Persia. In fact, I do believe it was the Persian’s who referred to sugarcane as, ‘The reed which gives honey without the sting of bees.’”


	3. Chapter 3

Given the dilapidated quality of the billboard that had boasted the existence of such a place, Gibbs was not at all surprised to discover that Martha’s Diner was no larger than the smallest bathrooms back at the NCIS headquarters. But smallness of the establishment aside, the wooden abode had a certain coziness to it not at all dissimilar to the café back in Stillwater, and Gibbs found himself subsequently endeared to the cramped place as a result. Casting a quick look at Tony, and he was all but certain the young man felt the same way. Wide-eyed and smiling, the curly-haired man took in the hand-carved décor lining the tables and shelves along the walls with no small sense of wonder, his green eyes seeming to be particularly drawn to a well-crafted horse with a cowboy on its back. 

“You need to seat yourself.” A large man helpfully called out to them, having not failed to notice Gibbs looking about for a waitress. 

“Just sit yourself anywhere.” His fatter companion insisted, using a fat strip of bacon to gesture about the well-filled joint. “Delilah will get to you when she has the time.” 

Grateful to have avoided the awkwardness of waiting for a nonexistent hostess, Gibbs nodded his thanks at the portly men and turned his attentions back unto Tony. 

“Go on and pick our table.” He encouraged, still eager to make his amends with the boy. 

In a move that failed to shock Gibbs even a little, Tony snatched up his hand and determinedly steered them all toward a circular table settled in the midst of the diner- its centerpiece the horse and cowboy Tony had become fixated on. Wanting to make good on his promise, as well as wishing to humor the boy, Gibbs allowed the selection to be made without any protest on his part despite knowing full-well he would be hard pressed to keep Tony from playing with the enticing décor. 

Sure enough, the very moment Gibbs had seen them all seated, Tony reached out to snatch up the contraption from its perch atop the napkin dispenser. Wishing to avoid a tantrum by forbidding him the much-coveted object, he quickly slapped down the Disney coloring book unto the table, having had the great foresight to bring it along inside in case their food proved to be slow in coming. 

“Weren’t you going to finish coloring Princess Esther?” Gibbs distracted, effectively drawing the man’s eyes as he placed a handful of colored pens beside the book. 

“Queen Elsa.” Tony corrected, taking the bait. 

Relieved to find his distraction so effective, Gibbs gestured for Tim to remove the wooden statue from the table as Tony carefully flicked through the pages of his coloring book to find the picture he had abandoned earlier. Well-pleased when Tim managed to hide the trinket on the floor by his feet without Tony having taken any notice, Gibbs relaxed in his seat and reflected fondly on the fact that he would soon have a warm cup of coffee in his system. 

“Why is Elsa all in black?” Tim wondered, peering at Tony’s artwork. “I thought she wore purple?” 

While the question was not, by any means, unkind in nature, Tony scowled and pulled the book closer to himself. 

“Elsa wears blue, not purple.” Abby corrected kindly, earning herself a smile from the artist seated to her left. 

“Well,” Tim shrugged, “Isn’t purple almost the same thing as blue?” 

“Actually-“ 

To say that Gibbs was beyond relieved when the waitress approached their table was an understatement, her arrival not only heralded the promise of coffee but preventing, as well, another lengthy diatribe from Ducky on a topic as tedious as the color spectrum. 

“Hello!” Their teenaged waitress greeted them, her smile both genuine and wide. 

As Gibbs and his team muttered their own greetings, the smooth-faced girl began to pass out menus, her cheerfulness never once fading even as the skinny man seated directly behind them snapped his fingers at her in a vain attempt to receive some attention. 

“Welcome to Martha’s Diner.” The freckled girl recited. “My name is Delilah. What can I get you all to drink?” 

As the malnourished man’s snapping became louder, and subsequently all the more aggravating, Gibbs looked over his shoulder and gave the ill-mannered man one of his darkest glares.

“I’ll have the largest cup of coffee you have.” Gibbs informed the girl, once he was reasonably satisfied the rude man had been properly cowed. “And he’ll have a strawberry milkshake.” He added, gesturing at Tony with a thumb. 

“Oh,” Delilah pipped, suddenly frowning, “We don’t serve milkshakes here.” 

As Tony’s smile rapidly fled from his face, Gibbs launched into action and pulled a stack of five-dollar bills from his billfold. 

 

“You got a blender?” He questioned the girl, working hard to keep his voice from sounding to authoritative.   
“Well…yes.” Delilah assured, still naively unsure as to what Gibbs was getting at. 

“Good.” Gibbs slapped one of the Lincolns into her hand. “You got strawberries?” 

Delilah frowned as she stared at the five-dollar bill in her palm, still utterly perplexed as to what Gibbs was getting at. 

“…We do.” She eventually agreed, her puzzlement only increasing. 

Hoping the skinny brunette would catch on before too long, Gibbs pressed another five into the softness of her palm. 

“You got milk?” He demanded, feeling slightly absurd at his inadvertent use of such a cliché slogan. 

“Of course!” Delilah readily agreed, slowly coming to the realization that she was being bribed. “And we have ice cream!” 

Nodding his approval, Gibbs pressed another five into the giddy girl’s palm and gave her an inquiring look. 

“You’re in luck, Sir.” Delilah quipped, hastily tucking the bills into her apron. “We only just started serving milkshakes today.” 

“How fortuitous.” Gibbs smirked, willing to ignore her usage of the honorific he so despised. 

Leaving the newly-energized girl to take the rest of the team’s orders, Gibbs opened his menu and was surprised to see the great variety offered to those who chose to dine at Martha’s Diner. Not only were there entire sections dedicated to Mexican and Italian food alone, but so too was there a great quantity of choices for burgers and steaks alone.

Quickly deciding on a bacon cheeseburger for himself, as well as Tony, Gibbs set the menu aside and looked over to view the progress being made on Queen Elsa. Now clad mostly in black, with only a smudging of purple around her brown eyes, he couldn’t help but think the young monarch bore an uncanny resemblance to Abby. He soon found why. 

“Here you go, Abby!” Tony grinned, carefully ripping the page free from its book. 

Abby squealed delightedly as she accepted the artwork, and held the page close to her blue eyes to better ‘examine’ it and praise the quality of the workmanship. 

“Yes,” She purred, tapping her chin, “The purple was an excellent touch.” 

As Tony sat up straighter and eagerly took in the accolades, Abby grinned and further continued her commentary. 

“And, oh!” She cried, theatrically enthused. “The use of the negative space outside the lines! Truly spectacular!” 

As Tony blushed happily at the praise, Gibbs couldn’t help but grin along, the young man’s happiness utterly infectious. 

“You like it?!” Tony asked, completely bewildered to be receiving such accolades. 

“I love it!” Abby assured, tucking the treasure away into her purse. “Thank you!”


	4. Chapter 4

Despite having wanted to get Tony down for his customary afternoon nap at two, it was very nearly three before Gibbs was finally able to pull into the parking lot of their hotel. For not only had a long stretch of unforeseen roadwork added half-an-hour to their travel time, so too had a popped tire further delayed them. And while those little hiccups were certainly vexing enough, they were but small in comparison to the resultant frustration Gibbs was now feeling in having been forced to deal with an overly tired DiNozzo for the greater part of an hour. 

Now sitting red-eyed and weepy, the young agent rubbed at his droopy eyes, far too exhausted to even realize they had finally arrived. Sensing an impending tantrum, of the likes he had not seen since the day he had momentarily misplaced Tony’s favorite blanket, Gibbs rubbed at his temples and contemplated what the best course of action would be. Should he sit in the van with Tony and leave the others to check-in and see to their luggage, thus giving the frustrated young man some time to calm down before leading him inside for much-needed nap? Or should he simply insist on all of them entering the hotel at the same time- as trying to stave off the inevitable tantrum might only make matters worse should the man in his care fall asleep in his seat and refuse all efforts to be moved or roused? Or perhaps a bribe was in order. If Gibbs promised to extend Tony’s bedtime by half-an-hour, or perhaps an entire hour, it might just serve as the catalyst needed for the prevention of a full-fledged meltdown in the middle of the lobby. 

With a frown, Gibbs decided on the last course of action, even though he was fairly positive Shannon would have never allowed him to use such bribery on Kelly in order to secure the promise of good behavior. 

“Tony.” Gibbs sighed, turning off the ignition. “If you can make it up to our room without throwing a fit, I’ll let you stay up late.” 

While he ardently hated for the rest of his team to see him bargaining in such a manner, Gibbs at least had the small pleasure of seeing Tony nod his agreement with such a deal. Cautiously relieved, and praying for the best, Gibbs then used his calloused thumb to press the hatch-opening button. 

Unfortunately for Gibbs, the relative peace he had just secured via bribery was soon ended, as the very distinctive sounds of a suitcase dropping to the asphalt made itself known. 

“I swear to God, Tim, that had better not be one of mine!” Kate snapped, still slightly van-sick and irritable as a result. 

Having been seated directly in front of the ladies for the duration of their trip, and subsequently been made to bear the brunt of their complaints, Tim scowled darkly and looked ready strangle both Ziva and Kate. 

“Leave him be.” Gibbs ordered, throwing the man a bone. “If you ladies hadn’t packed so much, this wouldn’t be a problem.” 

“It was Abby who overpacked!” Kate defended, looking highly indignant. “I only brought four.” 

While such a statement was objectively true, the fact still remained that said suitcases were four of the biggest Gibbs had ever seen. But before Gibbs could so much as point that out, much less order the girl to leave his Abby alone, a timid knock sounded on his window and distracted him. 

Actively going through coffee-withdrawal, as well as annoyed that his marine-senses had proven so useless, Gibbs glared sharply at the intruder and reignited the engine before rolling down the window. 

“Welcome to the Silver Palace.” The intruder warbled, paling notably at Gibbs’s fierce glower. “May we take your bags inside for you?” 

“You might need a second hand.” Gibbs warned. “But sure.” 

As it turned out, his caution was widely unnecessary, as out of nowhere a second bellhop appeared leading two silver trolleys by hand. 

“Jesus.” Tim whispered. “They’re like ninjas.” 

“With what I suspect the Director is paying for our rooms, they had better be.” Gibbs grumbled, removing himself from the van with a groan. 

Taking a quick moment to stretch out the tensed muscles in his back, Gibbs blinked in the harsh sunlight before moving to open Tony’s door. It was not a moment too soon, either, for as soon as the young man heard the door slide open he jerked away, having dozed off in the few moments Gibbs’s attention was turned away. 

“I tired.” Tony whined, rubbing at his heavy green eyes. 

“I know.” Gibbs sympathized, unbuckling his seat belt for him. “But we all have to do now is check-in.” 

Tony frowned deeply at the news, but otherwise allowed Gibbs to gently pull him from the van without protest. Quickly gathering up his blanket, as well as his coloring book and pens, Gibbs shoved the bundle under one arm and grabbed his ward’s hand. For as independent as he usually allowed Tony to be, the parking lot of the Silver Palace was absolutely huge and alive with all manners of traffic. But rather than protest at such childish treatment, Tony full-heartedly accepted it, even going so far as to press closer to Gibbs when a muffler-free car drove by and frightened him. 

“I hope they have Wi-Fi.” Abby remarked, ambling up next to Gibbs. 

“I’m sure they do, Abbs.” Gibbs assured, glancing up at the sheer enormity that was the Silver Palace. 

“Good.” The Goth-girl grinned. “That means you can’t get out of binging Game of Thrones with me.” 

It was all Gibbs could do not sight, as after only three seasons he was already heartily disgusted with the program. But as if was for Abby, he preserved, just as he had when it had come to Tony’s pleas for him to finish watching all the Godfather movies. 

“The things I do for you.” Gibbs sighed, shaking his head.


	5. Chapter 5

Gibbs had to bite his tongue to keep from snapping at Tony as he the young boy tried once again, in vain, to pull free from his grasp. Because even though he knew full-well that the young man had every cause to be frustrated with having had his sleep schedule disturbed, the fact still remained that Gibbs had brokered a deal with him where regarded his behavior in the lobby. And while he was faithfully intending to uphold his end of the bargain, the young DiNozzo seemed almost hellbent on reneging on his. 

“Hello,” The redheaded receptionist chirped as they approached, “Welcome to the Silver Palace. How can may I assist you?” 

“We’re here to check in.” Gibbs informed the freckled woman, swatting mildly at Tony’s hand as he reached for a wooden nameplate that bore the name Siobhan. 

“Could I have your name please?” 

“Jethro Gibbs.” He answered, forging the customary pleasantries in favor of expedient results. 

As the skinny woman set to typing his name into the computer, Gibbs plucked a green lollypop from the jar on the counter and passed it to Tony, hoping the sweet would, at the very least, serve to distract the man. 

“I’m sorry, Sir.” Siobhan frowned. “But I’m not seeing your name in my database. Did you register under a different name?” 

“Try Leeroy.” Gibbs insisted, resolving to later strangle the Director for the sheer audacity of making him use his legal name. 

As Siobhan typed away at her keyboard once more, Gibbs quickly helped Tony remove the wrapper he had been struggling with. 

“Ah, there you are.” The receptionist smiled, clicking her mouse a few times. “Rooms three, four, and five.” 

“Sounds right to me.” Gibbs shrugged, holding his free hand out for the keys. 

“I’m sorry, Sir, but I’ll need to see some type of identification before giving you the keys.” 

In a hurry to see Tony into a bed, Gibbs thought nothing of letting go of his charges hand to remove the wallet from his pocket. As it turned out, that quickly turned out to be one of the worst ideas he had ever had. For the very moment Tony realized his hand was now free, and Gibbs otherwise distracted with freeing his license from its leathery prison, he reached up and grabbed a vase full of lilies from the counter, the bright-red vase a powerful distraction for the dreadfully bored Tony. 

“Put those back.” Gibbs ordered, slapping his license unto the counter. 

More intent of having his curiosity sated, rather than being outright naughty, Tony nodded once and returned the vase to its proper position. Unfortunately, in doing so, his elbow caught the jar of lollypops and sent it crashing to the floor. Wincing, but relieved the container was nothing more than a plastic creation, Gibbs kneeled to help Tony clear up the mess. 

“I sorry.” Tony apologized, swiping at his eyes. 

“It’s alright.” Gibbs assured. “It was just an accident.” 

Quickly returning the refilled container to its former perch, and pulling Tony back to his feet, Gibbs raised an expectant brow at the receptionist. 

“Keys?” He asked, holding out an expectant hand. 

“Of course.” Siobhan intoned, pressing the keys into his palm. “Have a great stay.” 

Nodding in reply, Gibbs snatched up Tony’s hand once more and lead him toward the lobby, where a good portion of his team was sprawled out lazily on the couches and chairs awaiting his return. As for Abby, Ducky, and Jimmy, the trio had convened around the enormous aquarium taking up the majority of a wall, the oldest of the group regaling the younger with detailed descriptions of the species that lived within. Sensing that Tony wanted nothing more than to join the latter group, and would erupt in a tearful fit if forbidden to do so, Gibbs sighed and shooed him toward the giant tank. 

“Now see, that there is a yellow tang.” Ducky was explaining, pointing at a brightly colored fish. “They use the spines on their tails to fight off predators.” 

“Why is that one so pale?” Jimmy wondered, gesturing at a fish of the same species. 

“Well, you see,” Ducky began, “Much like a person loses color in their hair the older they get, so to do Yellow Tangs gradually began to lose the brightness in their scales.” 

Seeing Tony rub at his eyes, Gibbs frowned, and stepped into the conversation. 

“Alright, you four. One more fish and then its off to our rooms.” 

While the others looked resigned to their fate, Tony looked downright mutinous. 

“The aquarium will still be here, later on.” Gibbs assured him. 

Sensing that his friend might need a little assistance in pacifying his ward, Ducky quickly stepped in. 

“Ah, Tony.” He smiled. “Why don’t you pick our next fish?” 

Falling for the flattery of being allowed to pick, Tony searched about the tank until his eyes landed on an oddly-shaped fish. 

“What’s this one?” He wondered, watching in fascination as the fish swam about. 

“Ah,” Ducky nodding, “That one is a Discus fish. They’re known as the king of aquariums.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey people! Sorry it took me so long to get to explaining the nature of Tony's disability. I just don't like to spoon feed readers all the information at once. 
> 
> Also, does anyone have any suggestions as to what they would like to see? I'm all ears.

While the room Gibbs had assigned himself had formerly been fit to host one of the crowned royalty from Britain, whoever they might be, it had not been so for long. For moments into entering said room, and being informed a nap was in order, Tony had lost what little composure he had managed to keep in the lobby- his sheer fury having let itself be known by tossed chairs and remotes alike, as well as a ‘spill-proof’ sippy cup being hurled at a wall and left to explode atop the white carpeting. 

“My goodness,” Ducky quipped, still thoroughly shell-shocked, “I do believe that tantrum gave me Vietnam flashbacks.” 

While Gibbs knew full-well that the Medical Examiner had never fought in Vietnam, he grunted his agreement with the exaggeration, far too exhausted to voice a more modest commentary of his own. For while he had managed, eventually, to wrestle the boy into bed and coax him off to sleep, the fact still remained that said ‘boy’ was really a six-foot man and fully capable of giving his caretaker a grueling workout.

“I do hope we didn’t receive any noise complaints.” Ducky continued, idly rifling through the pages of one of the National Geographic magazines he had brought along. “I hardly think the Director would be best pleased with us, were we to manage getting thrown out so early on.”

While Gibbs really was quite irritated with Tony for the utter destruction he had wrought to their room, he found he couldn’t help but rationalize away the abhorrent behavior by reassuring himself that his favorite agent had simply been overly-tired and frustrated from having been cooped up in the van for so very long without considerable distraction. 

“He was exhausted.” Gibbs defended. “You know he isn’t usually like this.” 

“But of course.” Ducky was quick to assure. “I dare say I was becoming rather antsy myself.” 

Having been the model-passenger throughout the duration of the trip, Gibbs doubted the veracity of such a statement and chose to make those doubts known. 

“I would have never known.” Gibbs replied, ever-so-carefully settling unto his own bed beside the slumbering Tony. 

Mercifully proving undisturbed by such movement, Tony slept on, the only noise emanating from his person being that of the soft sounds he made as he suckled at the all-black pacifier Abby had given him at the very beginning of his sudden ‘injury.’ 

Much relieved that he hadn’t managed to rouse the cranky boy from his much-needed nap, Gibbs leaned back heavily into the pillows and, again, regretted having not stopped for coffee on their way to the hotel. Pulling his cellphone out of his pocket, a newer model Abby had insisted he get after his old one had finally bit the bullet, he briefly contemplated sending said Goth girl down to the lobby to get him some coffee. But, at the last moment, he declined to send such a text, knowing as well as he did that the forensic enthusiast had very likely woken up extra early to have her makeup finished before the departure time he had set. 

“Have you heard from the Mayo Clinic, Jethro?” Ducky asked, having not failed to hear his roommates sigh as said man put aside his phone. 

Though he wanted nothing more than to forget such an unsatisfactory phone call, Gibbs felt it highly unfair to conceal the nature of such an important conversation with Ducky. 

“They called me just yesterday.” Gibbs replied, rubbing at his temples in a vain attempt to stave off one of the powerful headaches that unfortunately came hand-in-hand with caffeine withdrawal. 

“…And?” Ducky prompted, setting aside his magazine. 

Though the reembraces of such a conversation sent his blood-pressure sky high, Gibbs powered through and answered his friend. 

“And they’ve made no more progress than they did last week, or the week before that.” 

It had been nearly a month now since Tony had been poisoned percutaneously by a suspect he had tackled to the ground, and while Gibbs fully understood that was a negligible amount of time where concerned such a rare poison, he couldn’t help but find himself frustrated with the apparent lack of any real progress. 

“Jethro,” Ducky lectured, “I can assure you that they are doing all they can to find a cure for Tony. Why, researchers at the Mayo Clinic are some of the best in the world.” 

Having heard this lecture before, Gibbs frowned and shook his head. 

“I know, Ducky.” He assured. “It’s just that I never thought one little ounce or two of poison could cause so many issues.” 

For God’s sake, Gibbs reflected, Bobby Flint had once drunk 8 entire ounces of gasoline once on a dare back in their senior year. And, apart from some mild intestinal distress, he had turned out perfectly unscathed. Why should it be any different for Tony, a man who had imbibed far less poison than Bobby had?

“The most potent of poisons seldom need administered in great amounts.” Ducky educated. 

“I know.” Gibbs assured, his words more of a sight. “But it’s been a month, Ducky.” 

Having never possessed a great deal of patience, such an extended timeframe was a torture to Gibbs. 

“Some poisons effects can last a lifetime.” Ducky replied with a frown. “Although given the circumstances, I shall spare you a boring lecture of what such poisons those might be.” 

Had Ducky not proven himself to be such an invaluable friend throughout the years, Gibbs might have cried out in joy upon hearing he would be reprieved from such a lecture. But rather than give into such a childish temptation, and thus run the risk of insulting his roommate for the week, he instead grabbed up his cellphone and set to work in trying to remove the annoying ‘lock screen’ picture of Tinkerbell Abby had set on it without his permission. It was only as he had begun to make simple progress, having somehow discovered how to remove the background photo of Snow White, when Ducky called out to him. 

“Have you discussed with the Director this latest update?” 

Gibbs felt his heart sink at the question, and found himself unable to meet Ducky’s eyes as he answered. 

“There was no need to.” He sighed, pretending to type. “The Director doesn’t want him coming to work with me anymore- not even for desk duty.” 

Ducky frowned his sympathies, but did not rise to give Gibbs a hug as he might have done for any of the other team members, knowing as he did that his boss enjoyed his space. 

“I see.” The bespectacled man murmured. “Have you any plans on arranging care for Tony during the days?” 

While Gibbs hated to give voice to such an unsavory solution, he found himself giving utterance to it anyways. 

“I suppose I’ll have to get him a nanny or something.” Gibbs shrugged, struggling to disguise just how uncomfortable such a thought made him. 

The news was, after all, chock full of horrific stories about rouge nannies abusing their charges. 

“Perhaps a home health aid might be a better fit.” Ducky tactfully suggested. “That is what I did for Mother.” 

Having heard nothing but wonderful things about the aid Ducky had hired for his mother, Gibbs perked up at the idea. 

“Yeah…” He muttered, sitting up a bit. “That might just work. Do you still have Clarice’s number?” 

“Clara.” Ducky corrected. “And yes. I’ll write it down for-“

Before Ducky could finish his sentence, Kate interrupted him, angrily pushing into the room through the door that connected the ladies’ rooms to his own. 

“Gibbs-“ 

“I swear to God, Todd, if you wake this boy up for some petty complaint I will have you shipped off to Siberia.” 

Deciding her complaints were not all worth running the risk of drawing Gibbs’s ire, the brunette hastily retreated back the way she had come. 

“Are you quite certain it was wise to have all three ladies sharing a room? Ziva and Kate seem all but ready to murder each other at a moment’s provocation.” 

While Gibbs frowned to think of Abby stuck in such a situation, there was nothing to be done about it. 

“I can hardly have Kate bunking with McGee and Jimmy, now can I?” 

Looking unamused at the thought of having his assistant put into such peril, Ducky shook his head and sighed. 

“You know, the Director really ought to have given us more rooms.” 

“The Director shouldn’t have made us go on this goddamn trip in the first place.” He retorted. “Or at the very least she should have given us rooms that didn’t connect.” 

Ducky was kept from responding by Abby pressing into the room, one had full of a steaming hot coffee and the other busy with securing a Caff-Pow. 

“But boss,” She grinned cheekily, “How else would I bring you your coffee?”


	7. Chapter 7

Though Gibbs would have never thought such a thing possible, The Silver Platter was even grander than the hotel it resided within, its entirety nothing short of something a traveler might find in the richest parts of Paris or New York. And while that, alone, made Gibbs hate it, the fact still remained that every last one them was far too exhausted to head out into the city for a less grandiose restaurant. Even if doing so would have meant they wouldn’t currently be exiled to the table closest to the kitchen doors as the result of a nonexistent reservation. 

“Uh…Gibbs?” Tim mumbled, blushing as he looked over his menu. “I…I don’t think I can afford this place.” 

Having looked over the menu himself, and promptly suffered a miniature heart-attack at the numbers, Gibbs didn’t fault the literature enthusiasm his skepticism. 

“I can’t either.” Gibbs smirked. “That’s why we’re all charging our meals under the Director’s name.” 

All at once, the color drained from Jimmy’s already pale face. 

“She’ll kill us.” He whispered, looking fully prepared to flee the scene. 

“Well,” Gibbs shrugged, “She shouldn’t have booked the rooms with her card if she didn’t want us making charges to it.” 

When that failed to placate Jimmy, not that Gibbs expected it would, Ducky quickly stepped in. 

“Never fear, lad, I shall protect you from the Director.” 

Despite never being one to give into his mirth, Gibbs found he had to bite down hard on his tongue to keep from laughing at the images of Ducky taking on the Director that popped into his mind. But before he could so much as draw blood from the effort, the sure result of having pictured the Medical Examiner tackling the Director, Tony interrupted by pulling on his shirt sleeve and relieved him of the efforts such restraints. 

“My tie tight.” The man-child fussed, tugging at the red fabric. 

Having had to endure a battle just to get the man into the damn thing, Gibbs wasn’t about to further antagonize the boy by being dismissive of his very real complaints. 

“It’s a tie.” He sighed, touching his on. “It’s supposed to be tight.” 

“Too tight.” Tony persisted, sticking out his bottom lip. 

Losing what little resolve he had at such a look, Gibbs sighed and reached over to loosen the tie before removing it entirely. 

“Rotten.” Gibbs muttered heatlessly. “You’re spoiled rotten.”

Though the statement had been far from a question, Tony nodded in the affirmative and scooped up the abandon tie in order to play with. Figuring it was a good thing for such an expensive fabric to still be put to use, Gibbs shrugged and allowed the young man to twist the silken apparel through his fingers as if were it were a snake. If nothing else, such play was certainly entertaining. 

“That snake is ginormous!” Abby exclaimed, feigning fear. “I sure hope he doesn’t bite anyone!” 

Feeding into such a shameless suggestion, Tony smiled mischievously and made his silken serpent slither across the table to Tim. Fully anticipating such an attack, the intended target made his eyes go wide and pushed into Abby, ‘struggling’ to escape his fate as a victim of serpentine violence. Playing along with such theatrics, or perhaps fully immersed in the act of pretending, Tony simply shook his head in a somber manner and remorselessly made the snake ‘bite’ Tim on the forearm. Ever the good sport about such things, the aspiring writer further played into the fantasy and yelped softly before rubbing at his puncture wound. 

“Oh dear.” Ducky chimed, looked quite abashed. “I do hope we won’t have to call animal control.” 

Alarmed at the very thought, having evidently grown quite attached to his tie in the last ten minutes, Tony set to discipling his pet straight away. Smacking the beast on what Gibbs could only reasonably assumed was its bottom, the disappointed man then made a great show of making the snake apologize to Tim. 

“It’s alright, Tony. Don’t be so severe on him.” Tim insisted with a smile. “The bite wasn’t that deep.” 

“Good.” Abby smirked. “Because I wasn’t in the mood to spoil my supper by sucking out the poison in your arm.” 

Gibbs couldn’t help but frown at the two scient enthusiasts as they made moon eyes at each other, his great discomfort in seeing Abby so flirt so openly greatly threatening the status of his appetite. 

“Well,” Tim grinned, scooting closer to Abby, “What about after supper?” 

Having stomached as much of the flirting as he was going to, Gibbs picked up a menu and slapped the back of Tim’s head with it. 

“Quit flirting.” Gibbs demanded, giving him another whack. “And decide on what you want to eat before the waitress gets over here.” 

As Abby and Tim both blushed profusely, the former mumbling assurances that she had been no such thing, Gibbs took his own advice and perused the menu- only to frown when he realized there were no English translations available for those who spoke only English and not the Italian the descriptions were written in. 

“Mind translating, Ziva?” Gibbs asked, the question more of a demand that anything else. 

While the Israeli looked put out and being made to ‘work’ while out at supper, she nonetheless obeyed and picked up a menu. 

“Pay attention.” Ziva demanded, glancing at everyone but Gibbs. “I am only reading this menu once.”


	8. Chapter 8

Having been given some of the best rooms in The Silver Palace, Gibbs wasn’t at all surprised to find that the bathroom affixed to his room was of one of an enormous stature. Inarguably the quality of a four-star-spa, fully complete with a massive jetted tub, the elegant space would very likely be the envy of any teenaged girl or young women who happened to have been lucky enough to enjoy a stay at such a cost-prohibitive place. 

But while such a room was entirely too ‘ritzy’ for Gibbs, it certainly did have its perks when it came to bathing a man-sized toddler. For not only would he not have to deal with the issue of regular-sized tubs being far too short for anyone above 5’5, so too would he not have to deal with the accompanying knee-pain that came whenever he was forced to kneel for prolonged periods of time. Blessedly able to sit on the fat rims of such a tub, Gibbs sighed his relief and smiled as he quickly set to work filling the porcelain monstrosity with warm water. 

“I sorry about my shirt.” 

Having been entirely unwilling to wait with Ducky in the room until his bath was completely ready, Tony had insisted upon following Gibbs into the bathroom. And while that had actually proved a Godsend, as it prevented the boy from getting red sauce all over the white bedroom carpets, the fact still remained that such an action had only prevented the bedroom from getting filthy. It had, unfortunately, done nothing to preserve the cleanliness of the bathroom. For it somehow seemed, despite having removed the agents soiled clothing right away, that the red sauce coating the boy’s skin had inexplicably ended up all over the marble counters and floor. 

“That’s alright, Monkey.” Gibbs assured. “It’s just a shirt.”

In all actuality, the silken shirt was no doubt one of Tony’s more expensive articles of clothing. But, Gibbs mused, there was nothing much to be done in the way of salvaging it. For not only was the fabric itself silken, so too was it a pristine white- and there was just no way in hell that tomato sauce was ever going to come out of it. 

“You mad?” Tony worried, nibbling at the skin on his thumb. 

“Why would I be mad?” Gibbs demanded, taking care to keep his voice even. 

Blushing like a small child caught snatching a cookie before supper, Tony looked down at the floor and mumbled his reply. 

“Because I droppeded my glass.” 

It all truthfulness, the dropped glass was more Gibbs’s fault than it was Tony’s. He was the one, after all, who had forgotten to bring along the boy’s sippy cup.   
“It was only a glass, Tony.” He soothed, shrugging his shoulders. 

“But Ziva yelleded at me.” The boy frowned, looking suspiciously weepy. 

As the skirt Ziva had been wearing at the time was black, there was absolutely no reason for her to have reacted so angrily to the bit of grape juice that had spilled in her lap. 

“That must have been scary.” Gibbs sympathized, with no trace of mockery. “But I promise, I’ll deal with her later.” 

Looking appeased at the promise of being avenged, Tony nodded just once and began to rub at his drooping eyelids. Sensing an early bedtime was quickly becoming imminent, Gibbs held out hi hand and beckoned the boy close. Eager to please, and clingy by mature, the younger agent all but threw himself into the embrace and wrapped his arms about Gibbs’s neck. 

“You’ve had a long day, haven’t you?” Gibbs murmured, giving the kid a tight squeeze before undoing the tabs on his diaper. 

Wincing as the wet fabric hit the floor with a soft splat, Tony nodded and buried his head into Gibbs’s neck. 

“I tired.” Tony agreed, sounding incredibly small. 

Sensing that he had precious little time to get the agent clean before a tantrum ensued, Gibbs reluctantly pulled away from the embrace and gestured at the water-filled tub. 

“Let’s get you clean, hmmm?” Gibbs crooned, lightly splashing the water. “We can snuggle in bed afterwards.” 

While Tony had initially looked well-pleased at the prospect of snuggles, his smile quickly turned to a frown just as soon he took notice of the distinct lack of bubbles in the tub. 

“I know.” Gibbs sighed, massaging his temples. “I forgot the bubbles at home. But-” He quickly added, “This tub can make its own bubbles.” 

Thus said, he pushed the appropriate button and set the jets to work. 

“Just imagine how fast your boats will move in those waves.” Gibbs smiled, plopping a plastic canoe into the water. 

All at once, Tony was mesmerized, his green eyes going comically wide as he watched the small watercraft bob back and forth on the turbulent waters. 

“Alright, Money.” Gibbs smiled. “Let’s hop in.”


	9. Chapter 9

Gibbs fought off a loud yawn as he massaged a hearty dose of conditioner into Tony’s sauce coated semi-curls, his exhaustion seemingly desperate to make itself known to every inhabitant in The Silver Palace. 

“What boat is this?” Tony yawned, shoving a large bit of plastic up into Gibbs’s face. 

“Ah,” Gibbs smiled, gently pushing the object away from his nose, “That’s a command ship. The Marines use those.” 

Thoroughly exhausted himself, Tony simply nodded to convey his satisfaction with the answer before promptly setting the gigantic ship after a much smaller schooner. Smiling at the innocent play, Gibbs leaned back against the wall for a better view, deciding then and there to allow the small boy a few more moments of play he would be forced to wash the suds from his hair and declare bath time over. 

“You’re an excellent captain.” Gibbs praised, scooping up an abandoned fishing boat as it floated by. “I ought to take you fishing.” 

“I never goed fishing before.” Tony replied, looking delighted at the very idea. 

Gibbs couldn’t help but scowl at the confessions, completely outraged that such a sweet boy had been denied such an important rite of passage. 

“I think you’ll like it.” Gibbs assured the boy, playfully steering after the command ship with the boat he had just picked up. “Would you like to go with me?” 

Thought it had been far from an extravagant offer, Tony looked as if Gibbs had just offered him the world. 

“I go anywhere with you.” The younger agent insisted, finally taking his eyes off the boats.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Gibbs replied, his throat suspiciously tight. “But let’s say we catch hold of that schooner so we can get you to bed.” 

Tony scowled, but nodded, ever the obedient little monkey. 

“No movie?” 

Gibbs shook his head and smiled, not at all surprised that his earlier promise hadn’t been forgotten by the film-enthusiast. 

“We can still have a movie.” He promised. “But only if we get going.” 

“Ten more minutes?” Tony pleaded, putting on his very best puppy-dog eyes. 

While Gibbs wanted nothing more than to give into the puppy-dog eyes, the fact still remained that it was getting very late. 

“If we take too long, Ducky might find a documentary for us to watch.” 

Alarmed at the very real threat, Tony quickly set his command ship into overdrive. Wishing to speed along the process as subtly as he was able, Gibbs moved his own boat to cut off the schooners progress.

“Got ‘em!” Tony proudly declared, forcibly upending the offending watercraft.

“Atta boy.” Gibbs praised. “But let’s get that hair washed, hm? The water is starting to get cold.” 

Still riding high on the successful capturing of the schooner, Tony nodded obediently and squeezed closed his eyes. Patting the boy’s head by way of thanks, Gibbs then set to work clearly the dark strands of the perfumed suds. Filling up the plastic cup he had thankfully remembered to bring along, he slowly loosed the water over the young agent’s head, taking great care not to allow the overspill anywhere near his charge's eyes. 

“We done yet?” Tony asked, as Gibbs upended a fourth cup of water over his head. 

“Two more.” Gibbs replied, wishing not to leave any job half-done. 

Not at all amused with the quoted number, Tony whined and slumped his shoulders, looking very dangerously near to falling asleep in the tub. Alarmed at the very idea, as there was no way in hell Gibbs would be able to maneuver the agent out of the water by himself, he hastened his pace and was soon rewarded by the sight of pristinely clean hair. 

“Alright.” Gibbs announced, startling the half-asleep man. “Let’s get you into your pajamas.” 

Thus said, Gibbs stood and held out his arms, wishing to assist the younger man in his existing of the tub. Eager for the aforementioned movie, and the allure of the bath having diminished quite a bit since the schooner had been captured, Tony all but scrambled from the tub and into his arms. 

“Let’s get you toweled off.” Gibbs suggested, yanking one of the oversized hotel towels from the rack above the toilet. 

Wasting no time at all, sensing his favorite agent was all but dead on his feet, Gibbs quickly set to work patting the drenched skin dry. Once that particular task was completed, in what was surely a record-breaking amount of time, he dropped the soaked fabric to the floor and directed Tony the toilet. 

“Try and go potty.” He ordered. “I’ll be right back with your pajamas.” 

Leaving the boy to do his business, Gibbs headed back into the bedroom portion of their rooms and set to hunting down a pair of Tony’s pajamas. 

“How goes it in there?” Ducky asked, still perusing his issue of National Geographic. 

“Better than expected.” Gibbs shrugged, carefully riffling through a suitcase.

Given the meticulous way in which Gibbs had packed for the trip, it took only a minute for him to locate Tony’s favorite pajamas. Of a footed variety, as well as dark green with silver pockets, the ensemble was almost certainly picked out thanks to its close resemblance to one of the Hogwart’s houses Abby was always talking about. 

Leaving Ducky to his periodical, Gibbs then hurried back into the bathroom, knowing full-well, as he did, that the two minutes he had been gone were more than enough time for Tony to get into some sort of mischief. 

Thankfully for Gibbs, as well as the cleaning staff, the mischief that Tony did, in fact, manage to get into, was of a negligible nature. 

“Look,” Tony cried, “I’m a mummy!” 

Having chosen to use his allotted potty time as an opportunity for some last-minute play, the younger agent had evidently gotten it into his head that wrapping himself up in toilet paper was the logical thing to do. 

“So you are.” Gibbs grinned, shaking his head. “But I think it’s high-time a certain mummy get into his pajamas.”


	10. Chapter 10

Having finally been made privy to the ‘intricate’ storyline that Disney had dubbed “Frozen,” Gibbs finally knew what it was to long for death. For not only was the younger of the princesses completely reckless with her naivety, and hard to support as result, so too were the songs of an ingratiating nature. God help him, Gibbs mused, he had not thought to ever see a day when a children’s movie annoyed him more than Sponge Bob. 

“Please tell me there isn’t a sequel.” Gibbs prayed, looking across the room to Ducky. 

Having also found the film distasteful, Ducky sighed and readjusted his glasses. 

“I do believe I overheard Abby telling Jimmy there was a sequel in the making, not too long ago.” 

Gibbs just scowled in response, his mind utterly preoccupied on all the ways in which he might successfully take down the Disney enterprise before any such film could be released to the innocent public. Because as much as he had enjoyed “Tangled” and “The Princess and the Frog,” he just couldn’t stomach another movie of the likes of “Frozen.” 

Of an entirely different opinion, Tony watched the film with wide-eyes, never once turning them away even as he worked on draining the bottle Ducky had been kind enough to make while Gibbs was getting him into his pajamas. 

“Slow down.” Gibbs advised. “You’ll make yourself sick.” 

Tony only grunted in reply, seemingly annoyed at the interruption. But when Gibbs shifted on the bed, intent on repositioning the agent currently reclining atop him, the boy relented and slowed his pace- having mistakenly believed his caregiver meant to take his beverage away when all he wished to do was regain a more comfortable position against the pillows. 

“You’re going to throw out your back holding him like that.” Ducky advised, his words garbled by a yawn. 

Even though Gibbs knew the Medical Examiner would make no moves to forcefully reposition Tony, his sense of self-preservation far too powerful that, Gibbs found he couldn’t help but tighten his grasp on the suckling agent. 

“Nah,” He quickly dismissed, struggling to sound nonchalant, “Marines are made of tougher stuff than that.” 

Though Gibbs had assumed Tony to be fully engrossed in watching the last ten minutes of the movie, he did not fail to feel the boy nodding against his chest in agreement. More than just a little flattered, as well as touched, Gibbs pulled him even closer and ruffled his still-damp hair. He might have even placed a kiss upon the dark locks, too, had not the rest of his team come pushing into his bedroom via the girl’s door. 

“Gibbs-“ Kate began, her voice sounding absurdly loud in the near-silent room, “Can-“

“Shh!” Gibbs hissed, looking quite pointedly at the half-asleep man in his lap. 

Seeming to only just realize there was a sleepy toddler in the room, Kate blushed and lowered voice. 

“Can we go to the bar and the end of the street?” She breathed, looking cautiously hopeful. “Just for a few rounds?” 

“We all have an early morning tomorrow.” He reminded his agents. “Do you really want to go about the morning hungover?” 

“We’ll only stay for a little while.” Abby joined in, unfairly trying to use her puppy-dog eyes against him. 

Having already been the proverbial bad guy several times that day, Gibbs found he had not the energy to refuse his agents such an innocent outing. 

“You may stay for two rounds and two rounds only.” He dictated, using his firmest voice in order to convey his seriousness. “And you’ll all be back before 1400.” 

“But-“ 

“Fine, 1300.” Gibbs corrected, leveling Tim with a glare. 

Not daring to push the matter any further, the collective team nodded there agreement and hurried from the room, all but tripping over themselves to be gone before Gibbs could change his mind. 

“You’re going soft.” Ducky teased, knowing he was safe from retaliation. 

Gibbs was about to retort that Ducky was the one going soft, soft in the head that was, if he thought he could get away with such a remark- when Tony got to it first. 

“Bellies is supposed to be soft.” He scolded the Medical Examiner, drowsily patting Gibbs’s stomach. “So they makes good pillows.” 

Had Tony been in his adult-mind, that remark alone would have warranted a head slap. But, as it was, Gibbs knew full-well the reply had been well-intended, and so he found he did not have the heart to scold the boy. 

“Ah,” Ducky grinned, “But some of us have softer ‘pillows’ than others.”


	11. Chapter 11

Dawn seemed to come much earlier than usual to Gibbs, and apparently Tony as well, for it soon proved apparent that it was far too hard for the boy to open his eyes- let alone get out of the bed and get dressed for the day. In fact, the boy did the exact opposite, frowning deeply as he burrowed himself beneath the blankets to try and snatch another hour or so of sleep. And even though they were running late, Gibbs soon found he did not have it within his power to be cross with the curmudgeon currently hiding from him. After all, Tony was almost always left to wake on his own back at home. 

“I know you’re tired, Monkey.” Gibbs sighed, deciding to try his hand at a gentle coaxing approach rather than a militant demanding one. “But we’ve got to get going. You don’t want to miss breakfast, do you?” 

Knowing the man to be a great lover of food, Gibbs was utterly flabbergasted when his mentioning of breakfast produced no real results other than an annoyed growl. 

“If we don’t get going, Tim might eat all the bacon.” 

Not at all amused with the constant chattering as he was trying to fall back asleep, Tony whined loudly and shimmied further down the bed, fruitlessly trying to muffle out the voice of his harasser. 

“I’ll let you have a small cup of coffee.” Gibbs bribed, planning on downing four cups just himself. 

When he received only another growl in response, Gibbs knew it was time to bring out the big guns. 

“If you want to miss breakfast, that’s fine.” He shrugged, slipping on his shoes. “But I don’t think Abby will be very happy with you if she has to eat breakfast without you.” 

Thankfully, the simple insinuation did the trick, as moments later Tony’s head popped out from beneath the blankets. 

“There you are.” Gibbs smiled. “I was starting to think you had disappeared on me.” 

Though Tony didn’t laugh outright at such a nonsensical remark, Gibbs could’ve sworn he saw the corner of the boy’s mouth turn up just a bit. 

“I can still have a doughnut?” 

“If they have any.” Gibbs sighed. 

“And coffee?”

“A small cup.” Gibbs allowed, stressing the word ‘small.’ 

Too excited at the prospect of being allowed such an ‘adult’ beverage, Tony didn’t even grumble about the meager amount allotted to him. Instead, he wriggled like a worm from the burrow of blankets he had created, all too exited to get his day started now that he had the promise of doughnuts and Abby to properly motivate him. 

“The sooner you get dressed, the sooner you can eat.” Gibbs advised. 

Eager to please, now that he was wide awake, Tony scrambled from the bed and hurried over to where Gibbs stood. Already knowing what was required of him, all without being asked, he promptly set aside his phone for a moment so that he could help the younger agent out of his pajamas. Once done, he also undid the tabs of the diaper, letting the damp fabric fall atop the pajamas so that he did not make a mess of things in trying to catch it. 

“Go sit on the potty.” Gibbs ordered, gently shooing the boy in that direction. “I’ll get some clothes out for you.” 

Tony nodded and scrambled off to obey, more than content to allow Gibbs the ‘difficult’ task of picking out his clothing for him. Opting for a semi-casual look, as they wouldn’t be going anywhere too fancy, he pulled from a suitcase a pair of black slacks and a simple fleece sweater the color of emeralds, hoping against hope that the darker fabric might serve to conceal any of the stains Tony would surely manage to accrue throughout the day. He was just pulling out a pair of socks when said boy returned, a look of fierce pride on his face as he sauntered over to Gibbs. 

“I did it.” He declared loudly. “I went potty!” 

“Atta boy.” Gibbs praised, patting his shoulder. “Now let’s get you dressed.” 

“No tie?” Tony asked, looking quite worried at the prospect. 

Gibbs couldn’t help but laugh at such a somber expression. 

“No.” He promised, positioning a fresh diaper about his waist. “No ties today.” 

Slumping his shoulders in sheer relief, Tony stepped into the black slacks without complaint, holding unto Gibb’s shoulders all the while for better balance. 

“Where we going?” Tony questioned.

“We have that team-building seminar to go to.” Gibbs scowled.

“What’s that?” The boy asked, lifting one foot so that his sock and shoe could be put on without a struggle. 

Once he had the left shoe and sock on, Gibbs tapped Tony’s knee to signal it was time to switch feet.

“We’re going to go to some office,” He began to explain, wriggling a sock unto Tony’s bare foot, “And some corporate fat cat is going to tell us how to be a better team.” 

“But why?” Tony asked, standing still as Gibbs wriggled a shoe unto his foot. “We’re already a good team.” 

“You think so?” Gibbs asked, tying up the shoe. 

“I know so.” Tony assured, crossing his arms. 

“Oh,” Gibbs humored, “And why’s that?” 

“Cause you’re the boss of us.” Tony explained. “And you make us good.”


	12. Chapter 12

“Alright,” Ms. Wagner grimaced, “I know you’re all tired, but we’re almost done here.” 

Had Gibbs been a weaker man, he might have wept for joy at the news. For not only had he been forced to endure an agonizing three-hour long sermon, complete with a bland and colorless Power-Point presentation, so too had been deprived of the basic comforts of his much-beloved coffee. 

“Praise the Lord.” Kate mumbled darkly. 

“Hallelujah.” Tim irreverently intoned. 

As he was feeling particularly surly himself, Gibbs decided to allow his agent’s unprofessional behavior slide. 

“This last exercise shouldn’t take anymore than hour.” 

“Sonofabitch.” Ducky grumbled, eliciting a gasp from half the agents. 

Seeing as the small room they had been forced into was utterly devoid of any sort of air conditioning system, not to mention windows, the Medical Examiner’s frustration was more than just a little understandable. Europeans, Gibbs mused, simply were not made for near triple-digit heat. 

“He said a bad word.” Tony whispered, finally look away from the Gameboy Tim had let him borrow for the duration of the seminar. 

“It’s okay.” Gibbs assured. “It was warranted.” 

Never a fan of hypocrisy, in any mindset, Tony frowned and crossed his arms. 

“But you yelleded at me when I called the Director a bi-“ 

Wishing to spare her best friend a well-deserved scolding, Abby intervened by clapping loudly and turning all attention unto herself. 

“Alright,” She grinned, “Let’s get started!” 

While Gibbs hadn’t thought it possible, Ms. Wagner’s scowl only deepened after Abby’s theatrical interruption. 

“Very well.” The unsmiling crone droned. “Let us begin.” 

“Begin what?” Tony questioned.

Having quickly grown bored of the Game Boy, once the novelty of having been allowed to play with had worn off, Tony had once more returned his focus to the coloring book he had insisted on brining along. And while Gibbs had initially been hesitant to allow him such a basic distraction, having not wanted the boy to embarrass himself in front of someone who knew nothing of his condition, he was now grateful that Tony’s whining had won out. For already having grown irritated with the young agent’s intermittent complaints of the rooms temperature, as well as the hardness of the chairs, the seminar-leader had all but growled at the boy in response to his freshest interruption. 

“As I was saying,” The unpleasant dwarf sniffed, “I have a series of questions prepared. I will read them all aloud, twice, and I expect you all to answer in turn. Is that understood?” 

“Yes, Ma’am.” Tim exclaimed, giving her a sloppy salute. 

Knowing that Gibbs was much too far away to deliver the errant agent a head-slap, Abby stepped in for him and pinched the man’s exposed forearm. Wincing, but unwilling to retaliate against the object of infatuation, Tim simply frowned and gave his crush a wounded look. 

“First question!” Ms. Wagner hissed, looking just as peeved at the inappropriate flirting as Gibbs felt. “What,” She intoned, looking at Jimmy, “Was your first job?” 

Having unwisely chosen to sit directly to the seminar-leader’s right, the assistant medical examiner had unknowingly earned himself the privilege of going first despite arguably being the shyest of them.

“I…” Jimmy blushed, but valiantly pushed onward through his anxiety. “I worked in a…I worked in a bookstore during college.” 

Having not failed to take notice of the skinny man’s discomfort, Tim grinned mischievously and gave Jimmy a pointed look. 

“Just what kind of bookstore did you work in?” He pressed, causing his target to color even further. 

“You leave him be, Timothy McGee.” Ducky warned, waggling a wrinkled finger at the instigator. 

Unused to such firmness from the usually jovial man, Tim held his hands up in surrender and put a passably contrite look upon his face. 

“Mr. Mallard?” Ms. Wagner droned. “I do believe it is your turn to answer the question.” 

“Right.” Ducky answered, quickly forgetting his minor irritation. “My first job.” 

Had Gibbs not already known the answer, he might have pegged the older man as having had a newspaper-delivering job, such a career seeming perfect for a person who so loved to read. But, if anyone were to ask him, Gibbs really didn’t think the truthful answer was any less boring either. 

“I suppose I had the usual jobs a young lad might be expected to have.” He began. “To be a tad more specific, snow-shoveling and lawn-mowing.” Looking nostalgic, Ducky smiled. “I was also made an errand boy for one of Mother’s friends one summer, although that mostly involved me rubbing her feet and walking her cats.” 

“Good God.” Gibbs grimaced. “Didn’t your mother have any normal friends?” 

“But of course.” Ducky assured. “They just never paid me as well.” 

Not wanting to think of all the things a small Ducky could have been talked into doing for money, Gibbs shook his head and let the matter drop. 

“I babysat.” Abby announced. “A lot.” 

Unaware of the fact that Abby’s appearance was by no means indicative of her character, Ms. Wagner looked outright horrified at the thought of said girl having ever been allowed to care for children. 

“How…informative.” Ms. Wagner sniffed, struggling to regain her composure. “Mr. Gibbs?” 

“Corn-husking.” He barked, his dislike of the questioner rapidly growing. 

Bristling at the tone, but likely too prim and proper to retaliate in any noticeable manner, the bespectacled woman turned expectantly Tony. 

“He worked as a cop for a while.” Gibbs replied, answering for the boy who was utterly engrossed in his coloring. 

Even though the dubious look on Ms. Wagner’s face made his blood boil, Gibbs forced himself to keep calm. It would not due, after all, to distress the sensitive Tony by yelling or growling. 

“Mr. McGee?” 

Having been making moon-eyes at Abby once again, the aspiring writer nearly jumped out of his skin upon hearing his name called so sharply. 

“I used to hack into my high-school’s database and change grades for a fee.” He admitted, looking only minutely ashamed. “I made enough to buy my own car doing that.” 

While it wasn’t a noble talent, per se, the craftiness of such an enterprise was certainly admirable to a certain extent. Not that he would ever admit as much to the little shit, but still. 

“Ms. David.” 

Glaring surly at the unpleasant woman’s tone, Ziva shrugged her shoulders and gave her answer all without looking at the woman speaking to her. 

“I did a lot of things.” 

“Would you care to elaborate?” Ms. Wagner huffed, looking indignant at having been spoken to so rudely. 

“Not really.” Ziva replied, shamelessly candid. 

Sensing a growing tension in the room, and unable to tolerate such an unpleasant sensation, Kate quickly stepped in and gave her own answer. 

“I waitressed.” She announced. “At the little diner down the street from my house.”


	13. Chapter 13

“Very good.” Ms. Wagner announced primly, in a tone that suggested she felt such accolades were underserved. “We’re very nearly finished.” 

Having already answered a whole horde of insipid questions, Gibbs very nearly became livid at the announcement that there was more yet to come. In fact, had it not been for Tony’s presence, he would have simply strong-armed the stubborn woman into allowing them to leave early- as well an insured no reports of such ever got back to the Director. But, as it was, the boy was in attendance, and far too sensitive to suffer any confrontations without a significant reaction. 

“If a Benjamin Franklin were to suddenly find its way into your pocket, would we be finished now?” Tim asked, pointedly removing his wallet from his pocket. 

With an intensity that managed impress Gibbs, as well as irritate him, the fatless woman glared at the impudent agent and curled her lip. 

“Do not ever presume to bribe me again, Mr. McGee.” 

Though he hadn’t thought it possible, the woman’s icy demeanor further added to the already intolerable levels of discomfort in the room. 

“Let us move on.” The woman sniffed, her grey eyes cold. 

“Yes,” Ducky agreed, his usual good humor gone, “Let’s.” 

“Very well.” Ms. Wagner scowled. “If you could learn a new skill instantly, what would that skill be?” 

Even though they had been answering similar questions for a good half hour, Jimmy still blushed and stammered as he made known his answer. 

“I suppose I would like to read people as well as Ducky does.” 

While the Medical Examiner beamed at the compliment, the rest of the team, barring Abby, either playing gagged or rolled their eyes. 

“I do admit that I would like to be a better navigator.” 

Having always been the scapegoat for their late arrivals, Jimmy leveled his superior with a painfully weak glare. A humorous expression at best, and one that Ducky chose to fully ignore for the sake of preserving their mutual bond. 

“I would want the power to make everyone happy.” Abby admitted, surprising no one but Ms. Wagner. 

“Ms. Scuito, I hardly think that would be classified as a-“ 

“Of course, it’s a skill.” Tim defended, valiantly rising to his crushes defense. 

While Gibbs would have normally bristled at such amorous behavior whereas Abby was involved, he found such an unpleasant sensation diminished when the action was accompanied by a chastisement of such a foul woman. 

“If you persist.” She huffed. “Mr. Gibbs?” 

Sensing the gray-haired woman was finally becoming flustered, Gibbs grinned inwardly and resolved to pester as much as he dared. 

“I already have all the skills I could wish for.” 

“That was not what was ask-“ 

As Ms. Wagner’s voice became shriller, Tony looked up from his coloring and scowled, never one to allow his toys to get in the way of defending Gibbs. 

“He already knows everything.” The young boy vouched, without even the slightest hint of irony. 

“But, Mr. Gibbs-“ 

Displeased at having had his small moment with Tony interrupted, Gibbs gave the woman his own scowl and his bark his answer. 

“Fine.” He hissed. “I suppose I wish I had the sort of charisma that would’ve allowed me to talk my way out of attending this meeting.” 

“Oh!” Ms. Wagner exclaimed, clutching indignantly at her heart. 

Ignoring the theatrics, Gibbs pressed on, wanting the meeting to be over with as soon as possible. 

“And as for Tony, well, I suppose he probably like to have the skill professional eaters do. Either that or the ability to go without sleep.” 

Little film buff that he was, the boy would no doubt be thrilled if he could dedicate his evenings solely to the watching of movies alone. 

“I would want more charisma, too.” Tim admitted, bushing deeply as he looked at Abby. 

Rather than seeming repulsed at the affection, as Gibbs might have wished her to be, the young goth girl seemed hopelessly flattered. Not the only one to notice such a juvenile display, Ziva wrinkled her nose and shook her head before giving an answer of her own. 

“I would wish for the skill to murder my enemies with just my hands alone.” Ziva intoned, completely deadpan. 

“Good God, woman.” Ducky exclaimed, looking entirely horrified. 

Though the answer had not come as a surprise to Gibbs, or at least not as a complete surprise, he couldn’t help but grimace at such morbid candor. Tony was, after all, in attendance. Fortunately for the Israeli, however, the boy remained utterly unperturbed and as precocious as ever. 

“Bucky can do that!” Tony informed Gibbs. 

“That’s one of your comic people, isn’t it?” He questioned, racking his mind as to which one that might be. 

“He’s an avenger.” Half the room informed him, with Tony and Tim being the loudest. 

“Right.” Gibbs nodded, wondering just what the hell that meant. 

“He has a metal arm.” Tony further elaborated, tapping his left arm. 

“What the hell happened to his real arm?” Gibbs demanded. 

Though Tony put on a long-suffering expression, he answered the question as patiently as ever. 

“He losted it.” Tony frowned. “In a train accident.” 

Before Gibbs could make any further inquiries, Ms. Wagner intervened with an irritating cough and tapped her clipboard. 

“We’ll watch that movie together later.” Gibbs whispered to Tony. 

“Ms. Todd?” 

“I wouldn’t mind learning a few languages, like Ziva.” 

“But I offered you many times to teach you Hebrew!” The Israeli cried, looking exasperated with her teammate. 

“Yes,” Kate agreed, “But…those…symbols don’t even look like real words. I meant I’d like to learn something simpler…like Spanish or French.” 

“French is not too easy.” Ziva grumbled. “They use much too many vowels!” 

Before Gibbs could intervene and tell them both to shut the hell up, as they were beginning to upset Tony, Ducky made an intervention of his own. 

“Actually, my dears, the language that uses the most vowels in the world is Danish. Consequently, the language that uses the least is-“ 

“Next question!” Ms. Wagner snapped. “Who is somebody that you really admire?” 

Gibbs nearly gagged at the question, and Ziva actually did. 

“I admire Ducky.” Jimmy answered easily. 

Not to be one-upped by his mentee, Ducky smiled at answered in much the vein. 

“I do suppose Mr. Palmer has grown on me over the years as well.” 

As the two exchanged meaningful looks, Gibbs once more contemplated throwing himself out the small window. 

“I admire Gibbs.” Abby announced, pecking his cheek. “Like, a lot.” 

Suddenly afflicted with a tight throat, Gibbs had to cough a few times before he gave his answer. “My team.” 

“I admire Gibbs.” Tony rambled, leaning over to wrap his arm in a hug. “He’s the bestest. Even when he’s mad.” 

If at all possible, Gibb’s throat contracted even further. 

“Oh, stop brownnosing.” Kate teased, rolling her eyes. “He’s already promised to take you out for doughnuts after this.” 

Not enjoying being called out in such a manner, but not at all upset with his team mate, Tony simply stuck his tongue out her and blew a raspberry. 

“You little-“ 

“Next person, please.” 

Though Ziva sighed loudly her displeasure, she answered the question with minimal attitude, which, in itself, was quite the feat for the Israeli. 

“I admire myself.” She stated. 

“And I admire Ziva- for her candor.” Kate added.


	14. Chapter 14

Having been forced to halt the seminar for the first time since that morning, as Gibbs had threatened her with the ruination of her career if she did not let him tend to a wet Tony, Ms. Wagner was not at all a happy camper as she moved to finish asking the last few questions. 

“Have you been pleasantly surprised by anything lately?” The woman read, speaking through tightly gritted teeth. 

Face brightening up at the question, Ducky seemed almost happy to give his answer.

“I recently heard a bit of very good news.” He beamed. 

Having not been made privy to anything that should make the Medical Examiner appear so happy, Gibbs furrowed his brows and gave the man an inquiring look- only to receive an apologetic shrug in return. Seeing the look his mentor was receiving, and liking it not a bit, Jimmy quickly blurted his own answer. 

“I found out I’m going to be a father.”

As the only ones not surprised at the news were Ducky and Jimmy, the room was rapidly filled with questions and ecstatic exclamations of goodwill. And not even Ms. Wagner’s shrill demands for them to return to topic could quell such a flow. 

“Good Heavens, boy!” Ducky mildly rebuked. “Your wife is only a few weeks along. It’s far too early to be telling anyone yet.” 

“I couldn’t help it!” Jimmy defended, radiant with joy. “I’m so excited!” 

“Of course, you are!” Kate squealed. “You’re going to be a daddy!” 

“Do you know what she’s having?” Tim pestered. 

“She’s having a baby.” Abby replied, rolling her eyes. 

“You know what I meant.” Tim retorted, poking her in the ribs.

As Jimmy had become painfully flustered with all the questioning and accolades, Ducky took it upon himself to answer. 

“It is far too early to have learned the sex of the baby yet.” The man educated. “Such a discovery won’t occur until at least the-“ 

“Might I suggest you save your celebrations for later?” Ms. Wagner interrupted. “When you’re not on company time?” 

Gibbs scowled at the rudeness but took her advice, wishing to get out of the cramped room as soon as possible. 

“I just got a pay raise.” He growled, his irritation with the woman making his seem far less pleased than he actually was. 

Having waited very patiently for his turn to speak, Tony nearly yelled his response. 

“I founded out they’re making another Frozen movie!” 

Gibbs nearly wept at the reminder, a distinct lack of coffee making such news nearly unbearable. 

“And I just out found that somebody anonymously donated 3,000 dollars to one of my charities!” Abby pipped, bouncing with excitement. 

As Gibbs had been the donor, he worked valiantly to school his face into an expression of innocence. Yet somehow, despite his prowess at concealing his emotions, Abby seemed to know and cheekily cast him a thankful smile. 

“They served crepes for breakfast at the hotel.” Tim answered. “Consequently, I also discovered what a crepe was.” 

“You really need to stop limiting your dining experiences to McDonalds.” Abby scolded, poking him in the stomach. 

Laughing at Tim’s look of mock indignation, Kate played along. 

“I was pleasantly surprised when Tim didn’t throw from all the crepes he ate at breakfast.” 

It was a fair statement, as even Gibbs himself had been alarmed after watching said agent down with eleventh crepe. 

“Can we get off the topic of food?” Ms. Wagner huffed. 

“Very well.” Ziva acquiesced. “I just found out vengeance will soon be mine.” 

While Ms. Wagner looked alarmed at the remark, Gibbs was only concerned, and he vowed later to speak with the woman before she had a chance to do anything reckless. 

“Final question.” Ms. Wagner announced, earning a round of applause. “What was the first thing you bought with your own money?” 

“Why, I do believe I bought a little book about the Tudor Dynasty.” Ducky informed the room, looking quite nostalgic. 

“I bought a comic book.” Jimmy blushed. “Although I don’t remember which one.” 

Once more resolving to murder the Director as soon as he got back, Gibbs scowled and very reluctantly answered the question. 

“I bought a slingshot.” 

Having been forbidden by his father to make one himself, Gibbs had scrimped and saved for weeks to buy one from the rival store across town. And while his Dad’s reluctance had, eventually, turned out to be well-founded, Gibbs still smiled fondly upon the memory. He had, after all, nearly taken the eye off the classroom bully with that thing. 

“I never boughted anything.” Tony frowned. “My mom picked out everything.” 

Growling under his breath and revelation, Gibbs resolved to take the boy on a shopping outing as soon as was convenient. 

“I’m pretty sure I bought fingernail polish.” Abby shrugged. “I think it was pink.” 

“I bought candy, probably a snickers.” Tim admitted, looking far from embarrassed.

Kate, however, actually did blush as she answered. 

“I bought a little beanie baby.” She smiled fondly. “A fuzzy little zebra.” 

Having been subject to the absurdity of the beanie baby phase thanks to Kelly, Gibbs resolved to look through his attic and see if he couldn’t find any of the damn things for his agent to take off his hands. 

“I bought a gun.” Ziva deadpanned. 

“How…How old were-“ 

“I do not believe that was part of the question, Ms. Wagner.” 

As Gibbs wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to hear the answer to such a question, he was grateful the woman had been cut off by the Israeli.

“Can we leave now?” Tim asked, already rising from his chair. 

“Please do.” Ms. Wagner droned, hurrying from the room in a huff. 

Following Tim’s lead, they all rose from their chairs, neither one of them stopping to tidy up the room as they hurried toward their respective bathrooms. 

“If the rest of the week is going to go like this, I’m just going to find a way to get myself sick enough to be sent home.” Kate threatened, nearly dancing as they migrated toward the bathrooms. 

“Never fear, Ms. Todd, I do believe the worst is over.” Ducky soothed, patting her shoulder. 

Praying the words would prove true, Gibbs pulled Tony into the men’s room and ordered him to stay by the sink as he and the rest of the team did their business. Vowing to do just that, and even promising not to make a mess while they were otherwise distracted, the young agent then settled on playing with the electric hand dryers. And while such behavior might seem odd to anybody who was unaware of his condition, Gibbs reassured himself that the bathroom was empty and would very likely remain so in such a useless company as this. 

Unfortunately, he was soon proved wrong. For upon leaving his stall and joining Ducky by the sinks, a group of obese office workers came in to do their business. And while that, in itself was certainly no big deal, the comment Tony decided to make upon their appearance certainly was. 

“Are those the fat cats you were talking about?”


	15. Chapter 15

Having promised Tony doughnuts earlier in the day to coax him from bed, and figuring the rest of the team deserved a treat as well after such a hellish seminar, Gibbs piloted the van all about the unfamiliar city until, at last, he located a small bakery. And while it was not the Dunkin Doughnuts he had been hoping for, as they served some of the best coffee he had ever tasted, Gibbs was still reasonably excited as growing up in Stillwater he had learned to appreciate the quality smaller businesses put into their products. 

Impatient for his much-beloved coffee, as well as peckish for a Boston Cream Doughnut, Gibbs all but whipped the oversized van into the sole parking space remaining to the crowded establishment. Earning himself both the finger and an angry honk from the owner of a silver Prius for doing so, Gibbs just grinned victoriously and gave the impudent teenager a finger of his own. 

“Gibbs,” Abby scolded with a giggle, “He was just a kid.” 

“He had it coming.” Gibbs shrugged, putting the van into park. 

With everyone still antsy from having been cooped up in a small office for hours, Gibbs was far from surprised when they all but flung themselves out of the van. Allowing them such theatrics without complaint, even when Abby and Ziva nearly tripped over each other in their haste to be free from captivity, he simply shook his head and turned to the well-behaved Tony. 

“I’m going to need you to hold my hand.” He informed the boy, frowning apologetically. 

While Gibbs would have ordinally allowed the young agent to put on a certain front of adulthood in such a public venue, so as to spare him any unearned scorn and derision, he found he could not help but insist upon the childish act of handholding seeing as how busy the parking lot was proving to be. 

“Only until we get inside?” Tony pleaded, looking decidedly put out. 

“Only until we get inside.” Gibbs agreed, holding out his hand. 

Though he stuck out his bottom lip in a mild protest, the green-eyed boy did as requested and grabbed Gibbs’s hand in his own. Wishing to comfort the boy as best he could, without drawing any undue attention to themselves, he squeezed the fingers gently and frowned apologetically at the bereaved agent. 

“Oh, Tony.” Abby commiserated, catching notice of his somber look. “Don’t be sad! We’re about to get doughnuts!” She reminded, smiling warmly. 

“And look.” Tim contributed, snatching her hand. “I’m going to hold hands with somebody, too!” 

Too preoccupied with seeing to Tony’s happiness, Gibbs vexingly found himself unable to separate the two lovers. He was forced, instead, to watch as the two practically swooned at each other and made love with their eyes. 

“Ugh.” Ziva grunted, vocalizing her own distaste for the scene. “You two act as if you are in a hallspot movie.” 

“Hallmark.” Kate corrected. “But I agree.” 

Grown tired of the constant barrage of teasing about their flirting, Tim scowled and quickened his pace, pulling an unresisting Abby after him. 

“Papa,” Tony mumbled, tugging on his sleeve, “Does Abby love Tim?” 

Overly flattered by Tony’s use of such a title, an endearment he usually only felt comfortable enough using in private, Gibbs forgot to feel angry at the agents the question was directed at. 

“I’m afraid so.” He sighed. 

Though Tony looked painfully confused at such a candid response, Gibbs was fortunately spared any further questioning by their prompt arrival at the door to the bakery. Thanking his lucky stars, if indeed Gibbs had any, he then made good on his earlier promise and released Tony’s hand. 

“In you go.” He ushered the agent, pulling open the door for the both of them. 

To say that the smells which greeted his nose were of a heavenly origin would have been no exaggeration, for Gibbs could easily pick out the distinct scents of at least half a dozen different coffees as well as a variety of Boston Cream doughnuts. 

“You might want to hurry and get in line, Jethro.” Ducky suggested, calling out to Gibbs from him perch at a small table. “I can only hold these seats for so long.” 

Seeing the prudence in following such advice, as the small bakery really was filled beyond capacity, Gibbs hurried into line behind Kate. 

“Do you know what you’re getting, Monkey?” He asked Tony, hoping to keep the antsy boy distracted until it was their turn to order. 

“I want pumpkin pie.” He announced, bouncing on his feet. 

“It’s the middle of summer.” Gibbs reminded the boy. “They might not have any pumpkin pie.” 

While Tony frowned, he soon came up with a more reasonable alternative. 

“A want a glazed doughnut then.” He decided.

“Sounds good.” Gibbs agreed, gently pulling the boy along by his sleeve as the line moved forward. “Now tell me about that Marvel guy with the metal arm.” 

As he had been hoping, the question soon provoked a long line of dialogue from the little film buff, his excitement at being encouraged to his share his thoughts on a movie absurdly effective in keeping him distracted as the line dragged along at a snail’s pace. Oddly enough, the wandering narrative even distracted Gibbs to a certain degree, his ward’s excitement having quickly become infectious to his person. In fact, had Kate not tapped him on his shoulder, he might never have realized it was his turn to order. 

“I’ll have a Boston Cream.” Gibbs directed, gesturing vaguely at the small row of such sweets. 

As the octogenarian behind the glass display moved to wrap up the doughnut in a sheet of parchment paper, Gibbs turned to Tony and prompted him to make a final decision. Because even though his young agent had earlier decided up a glazed doughnut, he had not failed to see the way in which the young food-enthusiast was eagerly ogling an absurdly large cupcake with purple frosting and edible stars for decoration. 

“I want a glazed doughnut.” Tony sighed, reluctantly look away from the sweet. 

Knowing that the man was only saying such to please Gibbs, clearly thinking himself unworthy of the eight-dollar treat, he shook his head and directed the cashier to give Tony the cupcake. Doing as bid, the cataract-sufferer surrendered the sweet to Tony, earning himself a shy smile in return. 

“Go over to Ducky.” Gibbs prompted, kindly shooing the boy away. “And have him help you remove that wrapper.” 

As his favorite agent scurried off to join Ducky, as well as Jimmy, Ziva, and Kate, Gibbs removed his wallet and pulled out a crisp twenty-dollar bill. Surrendering it to the elderly crone who manned the register, he requested their largest cup off coffee and waited patiently as she shuffled off to fill an inadequately sized Styrofoam cup from the dispensers behind her. 

“That one isn’t going to make any trouble for us, is he?” The weathered woman fussed, pressing the overheated beverage into his free hand. 

Not knowing which of his agents the woman was speaking of, Gibbs looked over his shoulder to try and assess the reasoning behind her nervousness. Glancing at the small table his Medical Examiner had quickly snatched up, he knew instantly the culprits were neither Tony nor Jimmy, for the both of them were sitting quietly and listening quite attentively to whatever particular bit of history Ducky had chosen to regale them with as they enjoyed their treats. And while, admittedly, the young agent had inexplicably managed to make a mess of his shirt (as well as the table) with his cupcake, the mess was well-contained and otherwise harmless. 

As that left only Tim for the culprit, Gibbs quickly searched the crowded bakery and was immediately incensed when he discovered the cause from the store proprietor’s concerns. For left without any chairs to sit upon, Tim had not only wedged himself into the crevice of a small window seat, but so too had he dragged Abby along with him. And while that, in itself, was not enough to infuriate Gibbs, the way in which he was needlessly sharing his cannoli with Abby certainly was. 

“I’ll tell them to cut the PDA.” He promised, resolving to deliver Tim the hardest headslap could manage. 

“No.” The woman frowned, handing Gibbs his change. “I meant the boy you bought the cupcake for.” 

“Tony?” Gibbs frowned, and turned back again to assure himself Tony was sitting just as he had been before- patiently and happily. “Why would you think he would cause you any trouble?”

“Because…” The woman coughed, then blushed. “Well…he’s clearly…touched.” 

Unable to believe his ears, Gibbs simply stared. 

“Oh, don’t look at me that way.” The cashier snapped. “You’re clearly old enough to remember the days where those…people were put away instead of paraded about. “


	16. Chapter 16

Not wanting to make a scene that would earn him a tedious lecture from the Director upon his return, nor wishing to upset Tony by making it known that there were those who despised his existence, Gibbs simply glared at the cashier and racked his brain for ways in which he might punish her for voicing such malicious thoughts. Resolving to put such a question to Ziva later, as the Israeli seemed the perfect person to go for such ignoble needs, he purposely plopped his grimiest penny into the tip jar before stomping off to the tiny table Ducky had inexplicably managed to reserve. 

“Jethro,” Ducky exclaimed, “Whatever is the matter?” 

Although he wanted nothing more than to announce to the entire host of customers that the owner of their bakery was an old-fashioned bigot, Gibbs held his tongue, one look from a worried Tony had quickly deflated his anger to a more manageable level. 

“Nothing.” He lied, shrugging his shoulders. 

Unwilling to allow himself to believe such a feeble narrative, Ducky leveled Gibbs with an interrogative expression that nearly put his own to shame. 

“Fine.” He grumbled, taking a quick sip of the boiling coffee. “I’ll tell you later.” 

Appeased with the promise for later information, at least for the moment, Ducky turned back to Jimmy and jabbed him with the little machine Gibbs had once been informed was called a glucometer. Not feeling any particular need to watch such a medical process, he looked away and turned his focus, instead, unto enjoying his doughnut. It was only when he was half-way through a particularly gooey bite, that the Medical Examiner reclaimed his attention. 

“Goodness!” Ducky exclaimed softly, gawking at the glucometers screen. “Are you absolutely certain that you’ve only had an oatmeal cookie?” 

Sweating, and looking a bit pale, Jimmy nodded and held up a half-eaten cookie for display. 

“Peculiar.” Ducky murmured with a frown. 

“Is he going to be alright?” Kate fussed, looking away from her conversation with Ziva. 

“Oh yes.” The Medical Examiner assured calmly, waving his hand dismissively. “He’ll just need a bit of insulin is all.” 

“It’s in the van.” Jimmy mumbled, using a napkin to swipe at the sweat on his brow. 

“Come along then.” Ducky coaxed, helping Jimmy to his feet. 

Concerned that the skinny diabetic might topple over, Gibbs stood, fully prepared to assist Ducky. However, the well-meaning gesture was quickly dismissed, a dual waving of two hands assuring him of such. Relieved, as he didn’t much fancy the idea of an emergency hospital run so late in the afternoon, or at all, Gibbs slumped back in his chair and took another sip of the still blistering coffee. 

“How can you drink that?” Ziva frowned, looking at her own abandoned coffee. “Mine has burned my tongue.” 

Though Gibbs could claim much the same, his intolerance for caffeine withdrawal was also far inferior to the Israeli’s- and if that meant drinking a liquid hot enough to boil an egg in, well, so be it. 

“I need it.” Gibbs shrugged, ignoring the way in which those words made him sound like an addict. 

Thus said, he returned to the self-appointed task of finishing his coffee and doughnut, wishing them all to be back on the road before any after-work traffic could manifest and needlessly slow their progress. For not only could Tony surely use a nap, Gibbs felt as if he could use one as well. 

“Look.” Tony mumbled, yanking on his sleeve and interrupting him mid-bite. 

Ignoring the smear of purple frosting the agent had left on the sleeve of one of his ‘good’ shirts, Gibbs looked in the direction Tony was pointing at quickly located the reason for the boy’s excitement. It had seemed, in an attempt to cater to those parents with younger children, that the bakery had thought to provide an assortment of toys. 

“Which one am I looking at?” Gibbs questioned, reaching into his pocket for his phone. 

“Truck.” Tony mumbled, suddenly shy. 

Figuring that the agent’s particular interest was invested in a truck that looked suspiciously similar to his own, Gibbs texted Abby and requested that she fetch it for Tony, knowing, as he did, that the goth girl would have absolutely no qualms whatsoever in pushing through the small crowd of children playing to grab up an unused toy she was far too old for. 

“I too big.” Tony complained, blushing as he watched Abby do just as Gibbs had predicted she would. 

“Nonsense.” Gibbs dismissed. 

Though Tony looked far from assured at such dismissive words, those doubts were soon forgotten the moment Abby plunked the truck down in front of him. In fact, he reached out so quickly to grab the toy that Gibbs did not even have time to first clean his hands of the purple frosting coating his fingers. 

“Look.” Tony repeated, smearing Gibbs’s shirt with frosting once more. “The trunk opens.” 

Much to the boy’s fascination, as well as Gibbs’s, the powder blue truck actually had a spare tire in the boot- a fact which only prompted further investigation from the both of them, with Tony being the instigator and Gibbs following playfully along. And as it soon turned out, to both their fascination, even the glove box itself was filled with driving paraphernalia- those being a crumpled road map and an old driver’s manual. 

So invested in watching his pseudo-son’s curiosity being appealed to, as well as his own, Gibbs remained utterly ignorant of the mean spirited looks and laughs that were being directed their way by some of the older kids who seemed slighted that their younger siblings had been denied access to the toy. Immature and ungoverned by their parents, as they still should’ve been at age seven or eight, the boys in question had finally captured Gibbs’s notice when they flung a piece of peppermint candy at Tony’s face at caught him in the eye. 

Having reasonably not expected such an assault his person, Tony went wide-eyed, his bottom lip trembling severely only moments before he began to cry profusely. And though Gibbs had wanted to nothing more than launch himself at the little culprits and box their ears, he settled on soothing Tony, figuring his wards happiness was far more important than gaining vengeance on those little monsters. 

“Oh Tony, don’t cry.” Kate insisted, rubbing his arm. “It’s alright.” 

Far too upset to see reason, and his eye still sore from the hard candy, Tony just pulled away from her and leaned heavily into Gibbs, rubbing desperately at the affected area in hopes that the pain would abate. Near murderous on behalf of his child, he was seriously considering lobbing the hard candy back at the culprits with full strength when the white-haired crone appeared again. 

“I’m sorry,” She snapped, looking anything but repentant, “But your boy is causing a scene. You need to leave.” 

“Those boys threw something in his eye.” Ziva hissed, leveling the woman with a murderous glare. 

“That’s no reason to carry on like that.” She dismissed. “Were it one of my boys going on like that, I’d have given them something to cry about.” 

“How about I give you something to cry about?” Ziva returned, jumping to her feet. 

Figuring threats of bodily harm would lead them ALL into a long lecture with the Director, Gibbs pulled the Israeli away from the woman and rose to his feet. 

“Fine.” He spat. “We’ll leave.” 

And, with that, Gibbs pulled the still sobbing Tony to his feet, the effort to do so quite considerable as the boy really was distraught. 

“Don’t worry.” He murmured in the agent’s ear. “We’re taking the truck with us.” 

Thus said, he shoved the toy into Kate’s arm and lead all out of the bakery, neither one of them stopping to clean up the mess that had been made of their table. 

“Don’t worry.” Kate assured, assisting Gibbs with getting Tony into the van. “I already destroyed them on yelp.” 

Pressing the van keys in her hand, as he was clearly going to need to ride beside Tony, Gibbs raised a brow at her. “You didn’t lie did you?” 

“Of course not!” She assured, still beaming at the privilege of having been made driver. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. The coffee WAS too hot, AND they gave Jimmy a sugar spike. That lady also called Ziva a kike.” She added in an afterthought, expertly backing the van out from the tight space he put it in. 

Had he not been dealing with a bereaved Tony, as well as not been in a moving van, Gibbs would have stomped back into the bakery and torn that woman three new assholes.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keep the reviews and ideas coming, I appreciate them both!

Gibbs could not help but frown with worry as he watched Ducky at work, his careful examination of Tony’s eye seeming far more theatric than it was sincere. With outlandish movements and cartoonish facial expressions he worked, eliciting laughter from his small audience and outright giggles from the patient seated in Abby’s lap. 

“It’s just as I expected,” Ducky murmured with a frown, “We’ll have to remove the eye.” 

Thus announced, he grabbed up the spoon he had been using to stir his tea and waggled it threateningly at Tony. Red-faced with laughter, the young agent shook his head, playfully squirming in Abby’s lap to avoid the still-wet utensil. 

“Ah, C’mon, Tony. Don’t you want to be a pirate?” Abby questioned, tickling his ribs.

“No!” Tony squealed, struggling to escape both adversaries. “Papa help me!” 

Worried that the captive might soon piss himself, Gibbs strode forward and gently freed his boy from Abby’s playful restraints. But it was not until he had theatrically disarmed Ducky with an unsharpened pencil that the boy relaxed his hold, his green eyes drooping as he recovered enough to regain his earlier composure. 

“You’re certain his eye is fine?” Gibbs pestered Ducky, rubbing the boy’s back. 

“Quite certain.” The Medical Examiner assured with a smile. “It was likely the shock of it all that upset him so badly.” 

Peeking down at the agent currently held in his embrace, Gibbs was forced to concede that perhaps he had been overreacting when he had earlier suggested taking Tony to the hospital. But, he thought, in his defense the red dye from the hard candy really had made it seem as if the boy’s eye had been bleeding. 

“Then I think it’s time I put this Monkey to bed.” Gibbs declared, gently steering the boy to the bed they shared. 

Though he might have usually pouted at being put to bed so early, the events of the day had clearly worn Tony out and rendered him powerless to fight the promise of a refreshing sleep. Once more reflecting on how very lucky he was to have such an easy charge to care for, and one he loved deeply at that, Gibbs set about to undressing the exhausted boy. 

“I’ll take that as my cue to leave.” Abby giggled, planting a quick kiss on both their cheeks before scurrying off. 

“If only she were so bashful when it came to Tim.” Ducky observed, strolling over to the microwave to make a bottle for Tony. 

Gibbs grunted his agreement, far too preoccupied with trying to wrestle an oversized sleep shirt unto his half-asleep ward. 

“I sleepy.” Tony fussed, making no moves to assist him. 

“I know.” Gibbs sympathized, carefully maneuvering an arm into its proper hole. “But I’ll have you into bed real soon.” 

Sensing that he might sooner be tucked in if he made moves to assist in the dressing of his person, Tony clumsily tried to shove his arm through the head hole. Promptly getting himself stuck in the fabric, and subsequently riled up, Gibbs quickly intervened and ripped the garment free of the boy’s body. 

“Let’s skip the pajamas tonight, hm?” 

Nodding his agreement, Tony slumped heavily against Gibbs, only narrowly avoiding crashing to the floor by his boss’s speedy reflexes. Sensing that the boy would be out sooner, rather than later, he carefully scooted the agent closer to the center of the bed. When, at last, he had enough room for himself on the leftmost portion of the furniture, Gibbs crawled in himself, pulling up the heavy blankets over the both of them before allowing Tony to crawl unto his lap. 

“Here you are, Jethro.” 

Accepting the bottle from his closest friend with a nod of thanks, Gibbs stuck the nipple in Tony’s mouth and relaxed against the mountain of pillows he had built up on his side of the bed. Completely exhausted himself, he allowed his eyes to flicker close, figuring that any disturbance would prove a more than adequate wakeup call thanks to his marine-honed reflexes. 

As it soon turned out, much to his vexation, it was the ringing of his cell phone that roused him from the light slumber he had fallen into. Cursing the existence of whatever telemarketer had managed to gain knowledge of his number, or the agent that had been too lazy to simply walk into the room, Gibbs all but yanked the equipment out of the bedside drawer and growled as he pushed the talk button. 

“Hello?” He grumbled, taking care to keep his voice even so as not to upset Tony. 

“Gibbs?” A familiar voice questioned. “Is this Gibbs?” 

Despite his resolve not to rile Tony up, Gibbs found he could not help but scowl as the all-too-familiar sounds of DiNozzo Sr. filled his ear. 

“This is him.” He assured the man. “What do you want?” 

Having expected a lengthy diatribe about his need for Tony to preform at one of his charity galas, Gibbs was thrown off guard by the man’s following diatribe. 

“I need to speak to my son.” Senior demanded, speaking to Gibbs as if he were in some sort of subordinate position to himself. “The hospital called me and-”

As Gibbs had been Tony’s emergency contact for years, there was no reason whatsoever for any of the hospitals to have been calling Senior on his behalf. 

“They shouldn’t have.” 

“Well, they did.” Senior hissed, sounding displeased at being addressed so bluntly. “They said something about wanting more blood withdrawn for further testing.”

Resolving to ream the absolute hell out of whichever moron had managed to violate the simple HIPPA laws, Gibbs took a steadying breath before giving his answer. 

“If Tony’s injury was anything he had wanted you to know about, he would have called you himself.” 

“Tony is my son.” Senior snapped, emphasizing the ‘my.’ “If he’s been injured, I think I have the right to know.” 

“I think you lost that privilege the moment you failed to show up when Tony had the plague.” Gibbs countered. “And again, the hospital should never have called you.” 

While Tony had otherwise been occupied with enjoying his bottle during the majority of the conversation, his curiosity was unsurprisingly piqued after yet another mentioning of his name. Tugging his beverage away from his mouth, and looking quite sorry for having done so, Tony opened his mouth to raise a question only to have a pacifier stuck into his mouth by Gibbs. 

“Shh.” Gibbs mouthed, holding a finger up to his lips. 

Looking indignant at having been so rudely silenced, but far too sleepy to protest with anything more than a pout, Tony rubbed at his eyes and sucked slowly at the yellow soother. 

“I want to speak to my child.” Senior repeated, sounding highly frustrated. 

“No.” Gibbs refused, rubbing circles on his child’s belly. “If he had wanted to, he would have called you.” 

There was a long silence after that, and Gibbs soon began to think he had been hanged up on. In fact, he had just moved to turn his phone off completely, wishing for no more late-night calls, when the man spoke again. 

“At least tell me whether he is okay or not.” 

Though Gibbs wanted nothing more than to inform the man he was not worthy of having such information, he found himself unable to do so, thinking pettiness of that sort was of a damnably cruel nature. 

“He’s doing great.” Gibbs provided. “Just great.” 

“If I could just talk-”

“You haven’t spoke to him in ages.” Gibbs growled. “Why would you want to now?” 

Hissing indignantly on the other side of the phone, Senior sounded more like a feral cat than he did a man. 

“I’m afraid I’m getting married,” He reluctantly explained, “And Lavinia thought I ought to invite him to the ceremony.” 

Though Gibbs was not all surprised to find that Senior’s sudden interest in his son had to do with yet another wife, his anger at such news nearly sent him into a cursing fit. 

“I suppose I would be rather afraid of marriage, too, were I on my seventh one.” Gibbs replied instead. 

And with that, as well as a smirk, Gibbs hung up.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brief mentioning of needles in this chapter. 
> 
> Also, keep ideas coming!

Having just spent a hellish morning sequestered within the frigid office of yet another medical ‘specialist,’ one who was full of conceit and the furthest thing from kind a person could be, Gibbs was dangerously near ready to explode upon the next person who even marginally annoyed him. For while it had been easy enough for him to ignore the elitist airs the porky little physician had thrust upon him for the whole duration of the visit, the constant grumbling and the general uncooperativeness from the semi-adult Tony had soon proved intolerable as well as unignorable. And despite having made clear such sentiments to his incorrigible agent, several times throughout the morning, said brunette still persisted in his misbehavior even as Gibbs lead him toward the hotel restaurant for lunch. 

“I already told you that I wasn’t hungry.” The curmudgeon huffed, literally stomping after Gibbs into the restaurant. 

Having already tolerated as much sass from his ward as he was physically able to, Gibbs stopped in his tracks and dragged an irate Tony forward to face him. 

“Listen here, young man.” He lectured, waggling a warning finger in his face. “You are on your absolute last warning with me. One more complaint, one more whine, one more dirty look from you, and I swear to God I will put you over my knee and spank you in front of everybody. Do you understand me?”

Although Tony’s green eyes quickly flooded with tears of frustration and rage, he quickly swiped them away with the back of his hand and nodded. Pleased to have avoided what was sure to have been a tantrum, of either the child or adult variety, Gibbs grinned and lightly smacked the younger man on the back of his head. 

“Good.” He grunted. “I’d have hated taking down your pants in front of Tim.” 

Receiving a glower from his child in response, Gibbs smirked victoriously and lead his petulant charge over to the table where the rest of his team had earlier assembled. Grateful to see that Abby had taken the liberty of ordering their lunch for them, and well-pleased at the sight of a large steaming coffee, Gibbs was almost able to ignore the look of guilt plastered on Tim’s face as well as the reason for it. 

“Oh! You’re back!” Abby squealed, hastily shoving Tim’s hand off her knee. “How did the appointment go?!” 

Though the question had been unmistakably directed at Gibbs, it was Tony himself who chose to make an answer to his best friend. 

“Terrible. They had to poke me four times to get my blood.” Scowling, he poked at the plain bandage concealing the puncture mark. “I didn’t even get a sucker, either.” 

Despite the childish nature of the complaint, there was indeed a certain merit behind Tony’s disapproval of the incompetent phlebotomist. For not only had said professional’s clumsy jabbing left his arm sore, too had it also left behind the evidence of such in the form of nasty, red marks that were sure to soon become bruises. 

“You ought to have asked for another phlebotomist after the second poke.” Ducky retroactively advised, frowning mildly as he slapped Jimmy’s hand away from a sugar-filled piece of cake. 

“I did!” Tony barked, glaring harshly at the Medical Examiner. 

Not at all familiar with any of their teammates acting so rudely, especially not in the presence of Gibbs, those seated around the table quickly fell silent, no doubt silently awaiting the fate of their colleague. 

“Tony.” Gibbs hissed, brandishing a fork at him. “What did we just discuss?” 

Knowing better than to push his luck, the chastised agent grumbled something vaguely repentant before biting into the absurdly fancy bacon sandwich Abby had ordered on his behalf. Tucking into his own meal, a steak-filled salad, Gibbs savored the quiet, knowing as he did that such peacefulness was not like to last. Gradually coming to relax on their own, having slowly realized that there would be no headslap to end all headslaps forthcoming, the remainder of them turned to their own meals and used the food to conceal the awkward air now surrounding them. 

“So…” Abby trailed, after a painful ten minutes had elapsed. “Is…is there any good news?” 

Before Gibbs could answer in the negatory, much less swallow down a large bite of spinach, Tony delivered to her his own answer. 

“What the hell do you think?” The man spat, slamming down his glass of orange juice. 

Much too friendly and charming to ever have been on the receiving end of such vitriol, Abby’s face collapsed into one enormous frown and her eyes flooded with water. Beside her, ever the valiant fool, Tim visibly bristled and made to leap to his feet. Had Gibbs not vocally intervened, the man might very well have slugged his boy. 

“Anthony!” Gibbs snapped, startling half the restaurant. “Apologize!” 

When all he got in way of a reply was a sullen glare, Gibbs saw red. 

“Apologize.” He ordered once more, speaking with a tone that might have driven even the dead to obey. 

Unfortunately for him, Tony soon proved himself more stubborn than a corpse. It was with an insubordinate jerk of his chin that he turned away from Gibbs, the look in his eyes one of unerring resolve. Counting to ten to temper his rage, and reaching ten all too quickly, he then rose to his feet and grabbed his boy about the arm. 

“Back to our room.” He snapped, tugging the man to his feet. 

Though he had proven himself quite powerless to remain in his chair, Tony still persisted in his foolishness and fought to free himself from the vice-like grip holding him hostage. Outraged, as well as flabbergasted in equal amounts, Gibbs let out a feral growl and yanked once more. 

“Don’t make me carry your ass through this hotel.” He growled. “Because trust me, I will.” 

Despite the threat having been delivering in a guttural whisper, the unwavering promise behind the words proved a strong enough motivator to still Tony’s struggles. Relieved that he wouldn’t actually have to carry the agent, as his strength just wasn’t what it used to be, Gibbs tugged the arm once more and set off in pursuit of their room. 

“Gibbs,” Abby called, “Go easy on him.” 

As far inclined from accepting such selfless advice as ever he would be, Gibbs shook his head somberly and continued to march his prisoner toward their shared room. Even as the boy began to give rise to new protests, he trudged on, all but ignoring the feeble whines that his grip was too tight and his pace too hurried. It was all a ploy, Gibbs knew, nothing but a children’s trick to slow down an approaching punishment. 

“You’re hurting me!” Tony groused, still making no move to free himself. 

Though the prospect of such was but small, Gibbs sighed and slackened his grip. For as angry as he was with his charge, which was quite a lot, he did not wish to leave any lasting marks upon his person. More relived than anything at the sudden change in pressure being applied to his arm, Tony stopped his whining, his trademark pout only reappearing when they arrived at the door to their room. 

“In.” Gibbs ordered, throwing open the heavy door without ceremony. 

Indignant from his rough handling, Tony stomped inside and kicked the door closed. Surprised, and made all the angrier by such disrespect, Gibbs snaked out a hand once and seized the tantruming boy’s arm. Spinning him around before the agent so much as had time to realize what was happening, he than landed three firm smacks unto his diapered rear. Yelping loudly with each blow, despite the thick protection he wore, Tony stomped his foot and fruitlessly tried to wriggle away from the onslaught. Not giving into the childish antics, no matter how much he wished he could, Gibbs steeled himself as he lead the red-faced man to a random corner in the room. Sensing his impending fate, Tony shook his head, an owlish look splaying across his features as he locked his knees. Unwilling to be cowed by his ward, or anyone for that matter, Gibbs then landed two more smacks to the boy’s backside. It was then, and only then, that his agent made to comply and sat. 

“You’ll sit here until you’re good and ready to apologize.” He declared, frowning down at his wayward charge. 

Though Tony lowered his gaze, the action wasn’t done in an act of contrition but in a fit of disrespect and petulance. 

“I’m disappointed in you, Tony. Very disappointed.” Gibbs lectured. “There was no need, no need at all, for you have to behaved so abhorrently.” 

As Tony’s green eyes began to flood with tears, he continued his lecture. 

“Now how do you think Abby and Ducky felt when you snapped at them like that, hmm?” 

Tony’s bottom lip began to wobble at the question, and Gibbs had to force himself to press onward. 

“How would you have felt,” He pressed, “Had Abby snapped at you like that?” 

Fat tears began to roll down Tony’s cheeks, and it took everything within him not to reach down and brush them away. 

“I want you to think about that while I shower.” He ordered.


	19. Chapter 19

Having left his sobbing ward to contemplate all the poor life choices he had inexplicably managed to commit within the space of half an hour, Gibbs sighed wearily and reluctantly stepped out of the shower- having spent the last fifteen minutes committed to getting his skin clean and his head cleared from all the anger and frustration clouding it. It would not do, after all, for him to confront Tony in the same state of mind he had disciplined him in. No, such correction called for a certain degree of calmness and levity, as well as a certain assurance that no love was being removed from the person being disciplined by the discipliner. Gibbs, well, Gibbs had none absolutely none of that.

Having started the morning off late and subsequently without coffee, the former having coming about due to his inability to correctly set a phone alarm, Gibbs had all but set the both of them up for failure. For had not been so grumpy and intolerant, perhaps he might have better commiserated with his child’s many hardships throughout the day as well as taken steps to mitigate their blows. 

Because looking back, of course it made complete and total sense that Tony had lost his cool. As, for all intents and purposes, had had left what was basically a two-year-old to deal with the very frightening (and painful) process of dealing with a doctor’s appointment on his own. Mistakenly having assumed the agent to be operating with a complete adult mindset, something he had failed to do at any point after his poisoning, Gibbs had been all but aloof and indifferent when it came to his boy’s very real fears and grievances. God help him, Kelly would have had much the same complaints- not to mention twice the attitude and destructive behavior. Hell, the fact that Tony had even managed to contain himself for so damn long should have been seen as miracle in his eyes. Kelly would have certainly never lasted long, that was for sure. 

And, Gibbs sighed, she wouldn’t have needed to either. For had it been his daughter he was dealing with that morning, things would have gone differently from the very start. For starters, he would have ensured Kelly had received a proper breakfast before setting out- even if such an allowance had meant they would set out later than desired. He would have certainly never shoved a semi-cold waffle into her mouth and considered such provisions ‘good enough.’ Not only would Shannon have slapped him silly, Kelly would have guilted him into better behavior with her tears and entreaties. All Tony has received for the same behaviors was a headslap, albeit gentle, and the threat of being carried over his shoulder to the van. 

Secondly, Gibbs ruminated, he would never have forgotten to bring at least one or two of Kelly’s toys along for a car trip. If not to keep her reasonably pacified in the stifling restraints of her car seat, then at the very least to keep her occupied in the doctor’s office whilst they awaited their chronically late pediatrician. But had he allowed that same courtesy to Tony after the boy had begged permission to leave the van and go fetch a coloring book? No, of course not. Gibbs had simply denied him that pleasure and sped off, wrongly assuming as he did, that the waiting room of such an office would have (at the very least) coloring sheets and children’s books available.

Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, Gibbs would have never brushed aide Kelly’s fears and reservations so easily. Had she been the one to cling to him in the much-dreaded doctor’s office, he would have pulled her unto his lap and held her tightly unto the trembling stopped- glaring away the doctor until, at last, she felt ready to face the dreaded prick of an immunization. The only thing he had done during Tony’s appointment was stand beside him, entirely silent, as the phlebotomist mangled his arm and ignored his anguished pleas to stop jabbing him. God help him, Gibbs would never forgive himself for such an egregious failure in parenting. 

Deciding it was high time to put matters to rights, Gibbs quickly threw on the rest of his clothing and hurried out into bedroom, taking care to keep the expression on his face neutral so as not to alarm the already distraught Tony. It simply wouldn’t do for the frightened boy to think his caregiver was still wroth with him. That would only exacerbate the situation, perhaps making it irredeemably worse.   
Grateful to find the agent where he had left him, though not at all pleased to see him in such a sorry state, Gibbs softly strode across the soft carpeting and kneeled in front of him. Sensing that he had not been heard over the unrestrained sobbing, and knowing that he had not been seen giving the boy’s current position, he cleared his throat and gently (ever so gently) worked to tug Tony’s hands away from his eyes. 

“Oh, Tony.” Gibbs frowned, when at last the green eyes were brought into view.

Sniffling his response, Tony swiped at his running nose with the back of his trembling hand and moved his eyes to study the floor. 

“Come here.” Gibbs directed, throwing open his arms. 

Though he was not by any means and overly sensitive man, Gibbs’s heart nearly broke as he watched the boy shy away from the embrace. 

“I sorry.” Tony sniffed once more, clumsily swiping at his eyes. “I sorry.” 

Clearly seeing that the boy needed the comfort and reassurances of a hug, yet was far too distraught with him to see one on his own, Gibbs simply pulled him into his arms and squeezed tightly- staying that way for quite some time until, at last, the sobs lessoned to a more reasonable degree. 

“Hush now.” Gibbs implored, rubbing his charges back. “The worst part is over.” 

Hiccupping loudly a few times, Tony blushed and buried his head into Gibbs’s shirt, soaking the thin fabric through with his tears and snot. 

“I sorry I yelleded at Ducky and Abby.” 

Though the words were nearly indistinguishable via being filtered through a shirt and interrupted several times throughout with sniffled and hiccups, Gibbs easily deciphered them and decided the apology was well enough for him. There would be no need, he was relieved to see, to play the dictator and drill a more succinct apology out of the already apologetic man. 

“I know you are.” He assured, smoothing the boy’s tousled hair. 

Gradually leaning into the embrace, Tony rested his head upon Gibbs’s shoulder and clung to his shirt with one snot-filled hand. 

“They mad at me?” 

Gibbs grimaced at the question, ever unwilling to give voice to a lie of any sort.

“Well,” He sighed, squeezing him close, “Their feelings might be a little hurt.”

As Tony’s bottom lip began to wobble at the unwelcome revelation, Gibbs sighed inwardly and gave the boy another squeeze. 

“Hey now, no more tears.” He beseeched. “The minute you apologize to them, all will be forgiven.” 

It was no half-hearted reassurance either, for neither Ducky nor Abby were particularly prone to holding grudges- much less forming them. 

“I go apologize now?” Tony asked, looking quite hopeful. 

Shaking his head in the negatory, Gibbs held his boy tighter and brushed away the moisture from his cheeks with the pad of his thumbs. 

“Soon.” He promised, staunching any protests before they could rise. “But first, I think we need to talk.” 

Seeing the very real fear flood into Tony’s green eyes, Gibbs chuckled and shook his head. 

“We’re just going to have a chat, that’s all.” 

Clearly relieved there was to be no more smacking involved, Tony sighed a breath of relief and once more relaxed his posture. 

“First things first,” Gibbs declared, forcing the words out, “I want to apologize.” 

Though the words left a bitter taste in his mouth, the unpleasant situation was very nearly alleviated by the cartoonishly-surprised expression that crossed Tony’s face at such words. 

“I know, I know.” Gibbs grumbled, feigning nonchalance at having willingly apologized for the first time in years. “But it’s true. I am, indeed, sorry.” 

“But why?” Tony pestered, frowning in confusion. “I was naughty.” 

Nodding his agreement, but not in a malicious manner, Gibbs kissed the boy’s brow before pressing on. 

“Yeah, I suppose we were both rather naughty.” He agreed. “You shouldn’t have snapped at your teammates and I shouldn’t have been so…tough on you.” 

“But I was naughty.” Tony repeated, rather puzzled. 

“Yes.” Gibbs agreed once more. “But I kind of set you up for that, didn’t I?” 

Looking scandalized at the very thought of his boss having committed any wrong, Tony shook his head and frowned heavily. 

“I was naughty.” He babbled, further burying his face in Gibbs’s shirt. “I always naughty.” 

“No, no.” Gibbs assured, massaging his ward’s back. “You’re hardly ever naughty.” 

“But…but you calleded Senior.” Tony inaccurately accused, looking wounded. “You want to give me back!” 

And just like that, a fresh course of sobbing began, this round much more pitiful as Tony clung to him for dear life and fought to breath between each shuddering breath. At a complete loss, as even Kelly had never become so upset as to make breathing so difficult, Gibbs simply held his boy tighter and hummed softly in his ear. 

“I did no such thing.” Gibbs reassured, when at last Tony’s breathing had begun to even out. “Senior called me, you goon.” 

“He did?” 

Nodding, Gibbs pulled his phone free from his pocket. 

“I could show you the call log.” 

Grateful when Tony shook his in the negatory, as Gibbs had no real idea on how to do such a thing, he smiled and planted yet another kiss on the boy’s brow. 

“Is that what all this was about?” He questioned. “You thinking I was handing you over to Senior?” 

Either too distraught or relived to give a verbal answer, Tony nodded and clung all the tighter. 

“I’m afraid you can’t get rid of me so easily.” Gibbs teased, rubbing the boy’s shoulders. 

“No want to get rid of you.” Tony assured, looking alarmed at the thought. 

“Good.” Gibbs grinned. “I don’t want to get rid of you either.”


	20. Chapter 20

Having finally managed to convince Tony that an afternoon nap was in order, perhaps for the both of them, Gibbs had wrangled the semi-asleep boy out atop the bed in preparation of a much-needed nappy change – the wriggling little goon having made quite the wretched mess of the formerly pristine garment upon their very arrival to the room. And while the resultant mess had done quite the number on his agent’s trousers, as well as the lower portion of his dress shirt, Gibbs found he could not be entirely angry at the situation as the preceding claims of an upset stomach had finally allowed him to wrangle the boy away from Abby. 

In truth, his only real grievance came about in the form of Tony’s sudden restlessness, the fussy boy having inexplicably decided that jerking movements were the perfect solution to an upset stomach and an overfilled diaper. At a loss as to what to do, as such unsound reasoning stood in staunch contrast to his desire to keep things as far from messy as possible, Gibbs simply sighed and counted to ten.

“I know you’re tired.” Gibbs assured, resting a gentle hand on his agent’s belly. “But I really do need to get you into something clean.” 

Perhaps having suddenly become reasonable in space of seconds, or much more likely sensed that his beloved boss was extremely exhausted himself, Tony gradually stopped his squirming and lay still. Beyond grateful for the sudden obedience, Gibbs awarded his charge with a small smile before setting to work. 

Thanking God that Tony’s chosen outfit that day had involved a button-up shirt, he made quick work of the buttons and gently peel his filthy boy out of the garment. Figuring that the pale yellow shirt was as good as ruined, and resolving to later secure for his agent a more reasonable wardrobe, Gibbs then tossed the stained garment into a trash can before moving on to remove his soiled bottoms. Reluctantly tossing the ridiculously expensive garment to the floor to be washed out later, as he knew the adult Tony would never forgive him for tossing out a name-brand product, Gibbs then sucked in a greedy breath of air before peeling away the reeking diaper and chucking it in the garbage can. 

Schooling his face into a mask of indifference, so as not to embarrass his already uncomfortable ward, Gibbs than grabbed up a large bunch of baby wipes and set to making clean again the excrement-coated backside. 

“Cold.” Tony complained, trying to wriggle his foot free from his hold. 

Having not warmed up the wipes as he usually would have, figuring time to have been of the essence, Gibbs frowned sympathetically and shook his head. 

“We’re nearly done.” He promised, hastening his speed. 

Finishing the cleansing in what was surely record timing, much to his and Tony’s mutual delight, Gibbs then pulled the relieved boy his feet and lead him by hand into the bathroom. Directing him to sit upon the toilet for the next couple minutes, as the boy’s stomach had rumbled ominously throughout the diaper change, Gibbs then made to leave so that he might clean up the mess that had been left behind in the room. Unfortunately for him, Tony had plans other than those that involved him being alone for any time greater than five minutes. 

“I no have to go potty.” Tony groused, crossing his arms even as his bowels betrayed him. 

“If you sit still for ten minutes, I’ll let you play on my phone.” Gibbs compromised, already surrendering the iPhone to his charge. 

Not having known how to do so himself, Gibbs had long ago enlisted Abby’s help in downloading a few child-friendly games unto the instrument. 

“Thank you.” Tony warbled, now happily resigned to his fate. 

Unable to keep the feelings of embarrassment away as he watched his toddler-minded agent make quick work of unlocking his iPhone and locating the desired app, two things Gibbs often still had troubles with, he scowled inwardly and made a mental note to have Tim give him yet another refresher course on how to better work the damned thing. 

Stalking into the bedroom, after carefully leaving the bathroom door cracked open, Gibbs moved his way through the quarters and into the large kitchenette. In search of the large store of teabags he knew Ducky to have brought along, yet not knowing just where the Medical Examiner had placed him, he searched diligently about for the space of three minutes before finally located them tucked away atop the refrigerator. Stretching up in his toes for better purchase, he then snatched the box down at settled it atop the kitchen table. Rifling through the great quantity of varieties, many of which he could not even pronounce, Gibbs quickly settled upon the more traditional mint- hoping ardently that the properties of such would serve to settle his agent’s sour stomach. Sticking the aforementioned bag into a hotel-provided cup he had filled with water from the tap, and praying that Ducky never would discover he had failed to use the kettle for such endeavors, he then stuck the concoction into the microwave and hazarded a guess as to how long such a beverage should cook for. 

Leaving the tea to either boil or cook, he was not quite sure which, Gibbs strode into the living room and scooped up the pants he had earlier abandoned upon the carpet. Gingerly carrying them by one hand, manliness be damned, he pushed his way into the bathroom and threw the dirty garments into the sink. When that drew neither curious glance nor question from the well-distracted Tony, he turned on the taps full blast and set to work rinsing out the garments as best he could without the aid of a washing machine. 

He had just been wringing out the sodded clothing, having the mind to hang it over the side of the jetted tub to dry, when his phone rang. Hoping for Senior’s sake, as well as for the general health of both his heart and blood pressure, Gibbs quickly dried his hands on his jeans and gestured for the phone. 

Obediently surrendering the rectangle, as his mind was much more focused on the sensation of his bowls emptying themselves quite nosily, and no doubt painfully as well, Tony frowned but nonetheless allowed Gibbs to leave the bathroom without complaint. 

“Gibbs speaking.” He droned into the phone, stalking over to the microwave to check upon the tea. 

“Is that any way to greet your father, Leeroy?” 

Having failed to check who was calling him, Gibbs was more than just a little surprised to his father’s friendly voice on the other end of the phone. 

“Sorry, Dad.” He grumbled into the phone, having seconds before burned his hand on the steaming cup of tea. “How are you?” 

As he awaited the answer, Gibbs snatched up a kitchen towel and used the fabric to safely remove the overly-heated tea from the microwave. 

“Good, good. I just got done fishing not too long ago.” 

“What did you catch?” 

Knowing his father as well as he did, it would have been nothing but a waste of his time to try and first ascertain whether had actually caught something. 

“A couple of walleye.” His father grunted in reply, cracking open a beer. “About a dozen catfish, too.” 

Mouth watering at the thought of a good-old fashioned fish-fry, Gibbs sank down unto the sofa and kicked his feet up unto the coffee table. 

“I ought to come up and take a few of them off your hands.” He joked, resting his eyes. 

“No need.” His father assured, pausing for a sip of beer. “I thought I’d come up and visit you, instead.” 

Not nearly as tired as he had been only moments ago, Gibbs sat up on the couch and tried to school his voice into one of neutrality. 

“That would be great.” He assured, fully genuine. “But what about the shop?” 

Though he did so quietly, Gibbs could not fail to hear the growl on the other end of the phone. 

“Been training Bobby Flint’s boy to take over. Don’t see why I can’t leave him to man the shop for a few days.” 

Gibbs was about to make an inquiry as to just which Flint boy had been given such an honor, a slight tinge of jealousy motivating the question, when Tony came wobbling into the living room stark naked and poorly-wiped. 

“Goddamnit.” He sighed, quickly jumping to his feet. 

“Excuse me?”

Gibbs winced at the sound of his incensed father’s voice, and quickly put the phone on loud-speaker. 

“No, dad. I wasn’t talking to you.” He was quick to assure. “I promise.” 

As his father launched into a lengthy lecture about the rudeness of making attempts to speak to two people at once, Gibbs grabbed up another wipe and cleaned his boy up as quickly as possible before taping into a fresh diaper and leading him into bed. 

“It won’t happen again.” He promised his father, hurrying into the kitchen. 

“It had best not.” His father grumbled, his anger quickly dissipating. 

Making a few more assurances that it would not, Gibbs poured the cooled tea into a bottle and stalked his way back to the bed, trying not to get so distracted by the task at hand that his father realized he was being partially ignored. 

“I’d love for you to visit.” Gibbs assured, sticking the bottle into Tony’s mouth. “But…I’m at a work convention for the next week.”

“Stuck with some corporate fat cats telling you how to do your job?” 

“You know it.” 

“Yeah, well, you gotta do what you gotta do.” His father sighed, sounding just as disappointed as Gibbs felt. “But you call me next week and we’ll set up a better time, you hear me?” 

“Loud and clear.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keep the reviews and suggestions coming - they fuel me!

“You had best behave yourself.” Gibbs directed, lazily running a comb through his hair.

Though Gibbs was very loath to leave his charge in the care of anyone else but himself, or perhaps Ducky, he inexplicably found himself preparing to do just that. 

“I will.” Tony assured, looking quite earnest. “I promise.” 

“I wasn’t talking to you, Monkey.” Gibbs smirked, kissing the boy’s temple. 

Having been the sole person to volunteer and stay with Tony whilst the others took their enjoyment of the hotel bar, the Goth Girl had only reluctantly been given the honor of playing babysitter by Gibbs. 

“I’ll be good, too.” Abby avowed, holding up two fingers. “Girl Scouts honor.” 

Rolling his eyes at the childish reassurance he had just been given, Gibbs shook his head and planted a kiss on her stark-white cheek. 

“No Tim, either.” He declared, leveling the babysitter with his sternest expression. 

Though Abby blushed powerfully at the suggestion that she might wish to sneak in her boyfriend, she impressively managed to quickly recover. 

“Yes, Mr. Cleaver.” She giggled. 

Casting upon her person a withering look, Gibbs sighed and once more reconsidered the impromptu outing. 

“Don’t let him get away with anything either.” He further instructed, forcefully pushing away all his worries and doubts. “Whatever he gets into trouble for, you’ll be in trouble for.” 

Though Gibbs did not wish to frighten his second-favorite agent, he felt such an underhanded tactic necessary. For not only was Tony helplessly inclined towards bouts of property-damaging mischief, so too was Abby completely unable to be firm and stern when necessary. 

“Don’t worry, Bossman.” Abby grinned, wrapping her arms about his neck. “I’ve got this.” 

By now thoroughly defeated, Gibbs sighed and wriggled free. 

“We’ll be back in two hours.” He forewarned. 

Nodding along eagerly to show that she was being attentive and taking the job seriously, Abby put on a ‘stern’ expression and gave him a sloppy salute. Sensing that he was being politely dismissed, along with Ducky, Gibbs placed one more kiss on Tony’s brow before moving toward the door. 

“Make sure the others don’t pick on Jimmy too badly.” Abby called after them. 

“I will make certain of such.” Ducky fiercely assured, closing the door behind him. 

Hoping that a nice strong drink would take some of his nerves away, Gibbs quickened his pace and obliged his slightly older attendant to hurry after him. 

“You must calm down, Jethro.” Ducky lectured, gradually matching his pace. “Neither one of them can get up to that much mischief in the space of two hours.” 

Knowing, as he did, that nothing could be further from the truth, Gibbs offered his friend an ultimatum. 

“If they do, you’re the one responsible for paying the damages.” 

Looking quite unperturbed at the very real prospect, Ducky shook his head to signal his agreement to the terms. 

“Yes, very well.” He agreed. “But I am sure it will not come to that.” 

Praying that such a premonition would prove true, Gibbs yanked open the door to the bar and immediately set off toward the counter. Ordering for himself a large glass of scotch, as well as a smaller bourbon for Ducky, he then claimed the last two seats remaining along the bar from themselves. 

“I do hope you’re not planning on getting drunk.” Ducky quipped, slipping into the remaining barstool. 

“I hardly think one drink would be enough to accomplish that.” Gibbs snorted, throwing a large swallow. 

Leaving Ducky to tut at such uncivilized manners, Gibbs swung around his barstool to search for the remainder of his agents. To his great surprise, as well as relief, he soon found them huddled about an ornate pool-table, the women in absolute rapture as they watched Jimmy sink six of his balls into a corner pocket and subsequently enrage the group of college-aged men playing against him. 

“You see Tim?” He asked the Medical Examiner. 

Giving the room his own cursory glance, Ducky shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. 

“Perhaps the young man had need of the bathroom.” 

“For his sake, he had better be.” Gibbs growled, throwing down the rest of his scotch. 

For if Gibbs discovered McGee had even thought of creeping into Abby’s room, much less done so, there would be absolute hell to pay. 

“Then let us hope it is so.” Ducky pacified, nursing his bourbon. “But do let us move unto more pleasant topics.” 

More than willing to put aside the troubling thoughts that came with his contemplation of Tim and Abby’s burgeoning relationship, Gibbs gestured for the barkeeper to refill his glass and spun to face Ducky.

“I called the company that provided care for Mother.” Ducky announced, effectively securing all of Gibbs’s attention. 

“Did they have anyone available to watch Tony?” 

Nodding his affirmation, Ducky pulled from his pocket a small sheet of folded paper. 

“At the moment, they currently have three aides available for the job.” He educated, unfolding the paper and passing it to Gibbs. 

There, written out in Ducky’s fine flowing cursive, were three names and phone numbers. 

“Well, we can forget this Josiah fellow.” Gibbs said straight away. “I won’t have some strange man watching my boy.” 

As sexist and ass-backwards as such a stipulation seemed, statistics showed that male babysitters committed the most sex-based crimes. 

“Very well.” Ducky readily agreed, still nursing his beverage as Gibbs rapidly devoured his second. 

“What about this Julie, here?” He questioned, tapping at the name. “Did she sound any good? 

Quickly swallowing the small sip he had just taken, Ducky nodded enthusiastically. 

“The agency had nothing but kind things to say about her.” He readily assured, shooing away the bartender as he made to refresh his glass. 

“How long has been employed by them?” Gibbs questioned, allowing the spurned bartender to refill his glass for the fifth time.

“From what I understood, she had just finished her first year not too long ago.” 

Not wanting Tony to be some sort of learning experience for a novice caregiver, Gibbs shook his head vehemently and crossed out the name with a chew up pen someone had left behind on the bar. 

“Well,” Ducky quipped, “That leaves us with Juanita.” 

Before Gibbs could make his inquiries as to the known nature of such a caregiver, the drunken woman seated next to him turned in her chair and sloshed him with red wine. 

“Oh, you’ll want her for sure.” The wino slurred, swaying in her seat. “Filipinos always make the best nannies.” 

As the advice had been unsolicited, as well as more than just a little racist, Gibbs pointedly turned his chair away from her and resumed his conversation with Ducky. 

“How long has she been employed?” Accepting his third-ish glass of scotch. 

“Thirty-five years.” Ducky educated, finally finishing his own beverage. “And she possesses quite a wonderful reputation within the company, as well.” 

Wincing as the drunkard beside him inadvertently sent a clumsy elbow into his gut, Gibbs frowned heavily and moved his chair closer to Ducky. 

“Why was she reassigned?” 

“Unfortunately, her charge passed away.” The Medical Examiner clarified. “But rest assured, Jethro, the elderly man in question left behind a glowing review of her work.”

Figuring that settled the matter, Gibbs circled the name and slipped the paper into his own pocket, already having resolved to call the woman sometime after breakfast tomorrow. 

“Thank you.” He praised the bespectacled man, rising to his feet. 

“It was no trouble at all, I assure you.” Ducky insisted, throwing a generous tip unto the counter. 

Seeing that his friend hadn’t risen to his feet, Gibbs rose a brow. 

“You coming back to the room?” 

“In time, yes.” Ducky assured. “But for now I think I had better see to getting Jimmy away from those ruffians. They seem not best pleased to have lost so much money to him.” 

Figuring the man had enough mettle to effectively scare away a small crowd of skinny youths, and reassured that Ziva would be more than able to assist were he not, Gibbs nodded his goodbyes and set off back to his bedroom. 

“Gibbs!” Abby squealed, leaping off the bed at his arrival.

Only a bit unsteady on his feet, Gibbs swayed but minimally as he caught her in his arms. 

“How’d he go?” He questioned, rather unnecessarily as he saw Tony sleeping peacefully beneath the blankets of his bed. 

“It would good.” Abby was quick to assure. “And he was good as well.” 

Rewarding her with a smile, Gibbs fished out his wallet and pulled out a fifty. 

“Gibbs, no!” Abby scolded, swatting his hand away from the bill. 

“You sure?” He demanded, suddenly dizzy. 

“Positive.” Abby pipped. “Now get to bed.” 

Kicking off his shoes, Gibbs did just that, not even bothering with the hassle pajamas. 

“You get bed off too now, too.” He ordered Abby, closing his eyes as the room spun. 

“I will.” She hastily assured. “But…But don’t you have to…brush your teeth first?” 

“Not tonight.” Gibbs dismissed, shooing her away. 

Undeterred, Abby pressed on with her suggestions. 

“Shouldn't you at least visit the…bathroom?” She asked desperately. 

By now suspicious, Gibbs plucked up his cell phone from the side table and chucked it beneath the bed as hard as he could. When he heard a loud thunk, as well as a sharp inhale of breath, his suspicions were only confirmed. 

“Goddamn it, Abby.” He grumbled, too unsteady to rise from the bed. “You had best get your boyfriend out of here.” 

Needing no prompting from his girlfriend to do just that, Tim all but dived out from beneath the bed and hurried from the room, Abby hot on his heels.


	22. Chapter 22

As Gibbs was, admittedly, thoroughly scotch-drunk, he all but failed to register his child’s desperate attempts to wake him with a firm shaking of his shoulder. It was only when the little goblin decided to pinch his nose shut, as well as clamp his mouth together, that he finally startled into consciousness. 

“What’s the matter?” He groaned, struggling to keep his heavy eyelids open. 

White-faced and cowering, Tony clung to him and loudly wailed his answer. 

“Faceless Men!” 

Almost certain that he had not heard the traumatized boy correctly, Gibbs rubbed at his eyes and asked him to repeat the complaint. 

“In the closet.” He whimpered, clinging tightly.

Having had experience in dealing with the fictional sort of creatures that lived in closets, Gibbs employed the tactic that had best worked with Kelly- logic.

“How the hell can a man not have a face?” He questioned, not unkindly. “That’s just absurd.” 

“The Many-Faceded God giveded him one.” Tony argued, tears creeping down his cheeks. 

Not having any real clue as to what the absolute fuck his child was talking about, Gibbs rubbed his temples and flicked on the lamp, immensely thankful that Ducky had proven himself to be such a sound sleeper. 

“There are no such things.” He promised the boy, sitting up. “And I can prove it to you.” 

Though he had never had to do such with Kelly, surely the next best course of action would be to ‘clear’ the room and search its entirety for hidden ‘monsters.’ This decided, he wriggled free of the absurdly strong arms holding him hostage, frowning a bit as Tony began to cry harder at the escape. 

“They going to get you.” Tony breathed, hugging a pillow to his chest. ‘They good at hiding.” 

“Well,” Gibbs shrugged, “I’m a Marine. And I’m not afraid of any men. Especially ones without faces.” 

Thus said, he strolled open to the closet and threw it open with a flourish, his movements greatly exaggerated as he peeked and prodded through the clothing and suitcases within. 

“But they kill people.” Tony somberly stressed. “And steal their faces. I no want us to lose our face.” 

Pretending to root about the shelving in the closets, Gibbs shook his head at such a nonsensical remark. 

“Did Abby let you watch the X-Files?” 

Though he had never been an avid watcher of such a program, the series did enjoy a certain reputation for creating all sorts of ghastly aliens. Surely ones that killed humans and stole their faces were within the realm of possibility.   
“No.” Tony sniffled. “We watcheded the show with Dragons and wolves.” 

So furious was he to learn that Abby had allowed his child to watch such a violent show, Gibbs nearly forgot Tony’s tears as he stalked toward the door to the girl’s room with the intent to kick it open and demand a reckoning from the errant babysitter. It was only when Tony’s tears became sobs, and his whines wails, that he remembered himself and went back to the bed. 

“Come along.” He encouraged, grabbing the youth’s hand. “I want a word with Abby.” 

Not giving the boy much time to protest, or formulate a way in which he might defend his best friend, Gibbs all but dragged the boy from his bed and over to the door that adjoined his room to theirs. But not wishing to pay for any unnecessary damages, nor injure his foot in attempting to kick open a door so very heavy, Gibbs first cracked the door open before swinging it forward with a flourish. 

Awaking with a horrid screech that could reasonably be expected to raise the dead, if not the entire floor, Ziva leaped from the bed she shared with Kate and launched a hard-covered book at his gut. Nearly doubling over as the volume made contact with his groin instead, Gibbs cursed loudly and struggled to stay upright. 

“What is it?” Kate cried, finally stumbling awake. 

“Faceless Men!” Tony wailed, fleeing into Abby’s arms for comfort. 

Still bewildered from having had her privacy evaded by her boss, Abby awkwardly placed her hands about the boy even as she tried (and failed) to conceal Tim’s presence behind her back. 

“McGee,” Gibbs barked, still partially doubled-over, “Get the hell out of here.” 

Somehow pale, yet at the same time blushing, the aspiring writer wriggled out from the blankets and tried to conceal his evident arousal at having slept so near to a half-dressed Abby. 

“Good for you, Abbs.” Kate murmured, catching a glimpse of the salacious salutation. 

Wincing as Ziva landed an annoyed punch on her shoulder, Kate wriggled from the bed and moved to the relative safety of the living room. 

“This isn’t what it looks like, boss!” Tim quickly exclaimed, struggling to tug on some jeans over his boxers. “We were just…just-”

“Cut the crap, McGee. I was young once, too.” Gibbs barked, finally recovered. “I know damn well what you were trying to do.” 

Unable to deny that allegations, Tim took the coward’s way out and turned to his girlfriend for relief. 

“…Jimmy was snoring. So I…we let him stay in our room.” 

“Jimmy doesn’t snore.” Gibbs glowered. 

“But Ziva does.” Kate called out across the room. 

Ignoring the jibe, as he had more pressing matters to attend to, Gibbs glowered at the Goth Girl. 

“You mind telling me why you let Tony watch Game of Thrones?” He interrogated. 

Looking horrified at having gotten his best friend in trouble, Tony all but clung to Abby and begged her not to be mad at him. Busying herself with ensuring the boy that she couldn’t ever be cross with him, no not ever, that left the answering to Tim. 

“He was asleep when we turned it on.” He swore, holding up his hands. “…At least we thought he was.” 

While their negligence was far less irritating than the prospect of them having selfishly exposed his child to such a mature television show, Gibbs was not so willing to let them off the hook. They had, after all, traumatized his boy. 

“Well, congratulations, you two.” He announced with a growl. “You’ve both just earned yourself the privilege of checking our room for Faceless Men.” 

As Tim frowned, Abby squealed and hugged Tony closer. 

“Oh, Tony! Did my show scare you!?” 

Nodding his head, the young agent swiped away a few tears and leaned into Abby’s chest, earning himself a decidedly envious look from Tim. 

“Did I stutter?” Gibbs demanded, when neither agent made to move. 

“I don’t think I need to search the room.” Tim began, only to be immediately cut off by Gibbs. 

“You do if you ever hope to keep your job!” 

“Just wait.” Tim implored, holding up his hands. “I think I can fix this.” 

Not wanting to have to headslap the agent in front of an already upset Tony, Gibbs scowled and shook his head. 

“You have one minute.” 

To his great surprise, as well as begrudging respect, Tim completed his task in half that time- dashing into the girls bathroom, and then out, with a half-filled spray bottle. 

“What the hell is that?” Gibbs demanded, too tired and hungover for pranks. 

“Monster Spray.” Tim announced proudly, tossing him the bottle. “I brought my own from home.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long space in between updates, I've been doing some overtime at work.   
> Keep the requests coming, though, as well as the reviews!

While Gibbs had taken Kelly to the zoo several times, if not half-a-hundred, he could not claim to have ever been to one quite so large and orderly. The size of a small city, if not bigger, St. Josephs zoo boasted ownership of nearly a thousand different species of animal, the coup de grace of which being a much-envied exhibit of endangered animals. 

“This place is enormous!” Tim exclaimed, echoing everyone’s thoughts as he craned his neck to look all about him. 

Enthusiastically nodding her agreement, Abby gently pulled her boyfriend a few feet away from the entrance, just narrowly saving said man from being ran over by an oversized stroller piloted by a harried mother. 

“I do believe it’s the third largest in the country.” Ducky informed the team, frowning slightly as he slapped a small fluff of cotton candy out of Jimmy’s hand. 

“Ducky!” Jimmy protested, looking quite bereavedly upon the fallen snack. 

“Don’t you give me that look.” The Medical Examiner scolded. “You were the one who left your insulin behind.” 

“I hardly think a nibble would’ve hurt anything.” Jimmy groused, crossing his arms defiantly. 

Sighing as the two autopsy worked began to heatlessly debate each other over their perceived calculation of the amount of sugar in one bite of cotton candy, as well as squabble over the semantics as to what constituted a ‘bite,’ Gibbs collected himself a brochure of the zoo from a nearby stand and cracked it open with a flourish. 

“What do you think, Monkey?” Gibbs queried, expertly calling his son’s attention away from the bickering. “What should we see first?” 

Removing his thumb from his mouth, having somehow managed to lose his soother in the spotless confines of the van, Tony shrugged his shoulder and clung to Gibbs’s arms. 

“No want to see any wolves.” He stipulated, fear filling his green eyes. 

Glaring at Abby, as she had been the one to cause the damn Direwolf dilemma in the first place, Gibbs sighed and rubbed his frightened boy’s shoulder. 

“According to the brochure, there are no wolves here.” He assured, flipping the paper so that his agent could better see the itemized list of animals and the pictures that accompanied them. “And even if there were, I wouldn’t let them hurt you.” 

Though he seemed well-enough appeased with the assurance, Tony still insisted upon determining the facts for himself. More than just a little willing to oblige him with such a need, Gibbs swiped the sweat from his brow and fully surrendered the oversized brochure to his boy. And even though he was almost positive that the said agent couldn’t really read whilst he was in such a childish state of mind, Gibbs couldn’t help but find himself proud of the boy for trying anyways. 

“Kate!” Ziva cried, shocking Gibbs out of his pleasant musings. “Look, they have Sand Cats!” 

Looking over the Israeli’s shoulder for a better view of the brochure they had decided to share, Kate frowned in consternation as she raked her eyes across the paper for the aforementioned animal. 

“Sand cats?” The brunette frowned, looking utterly uninterested. 

“Yes!” Ziva enthused, giddy for the first time that week. “They have brought them all the way from Israel!” Still seeking to further solidify the reasoning behind her excitement, the shorter brunette jabbed at the brochure excitedly and pressed onward. “They will even let you pet one for five dollars!” 

“Let’s start with the water-exhibit first.” Kate suggested, for once refusing to be cowed by the more intimidating woman. “They have seahorses!” 

Ardently wising that Tony would hurry up and finish his ‘reading’ of the brochure, so that he might not have to stand and bare witness to such a mindless squabble, Gibbs wiped more sweat from his brow and cursed himself for not having thought to bring a long a hat. 

“But it is making no sense to start there.” Ziva impatiently growled. “The Israeli-exhibit comes before the water-exhibit. Your way would have us walking in hoop-de-hoops.” 

“Loop-de-loops.” Kate corrected, rolling her eyes. “And why couldn’t we just go from back to front?” 

“There is never a reason to be going back to front on anything.” Ziva countered, dabbing at her sweaty brow with a napkin. 

Though Gibbs was of the same opinion, he judiciously kept silent in favor of keeping the sensitive Tony from becoming involved in the argument. 

“Why are the sand cats even in the Israeli-exhibit.” Kate groused. “It makes no sense.” 

Clearly irritated with her colleague’s lack of education whereas her home country was concerned, Ziva scowled and rolled her own eyes. 

“Because Israel is mostly desert, you uneducated swine.” The offended immigrant educated. 

“I am not uncultured.” Kate challenged, sounding highly offended. “I doubt you know the entire composition of the United States.” 

Never one to allow herself to be bested, either in combat or verbally, Ziva stuck up her nose into the air and quickly gave voice to a witty retort.

“Israel is half the size of Lake Michigan. It would be far easier for you to know my country’s composition than the other way around.” 

Displeased with having found herself so easily bested, Kate turned on her heels to look for an ally. 

Having finally come to an accord with his ‘son,’ Ducky readily obliged the wounded brunette. 

“If you two cannot come to a compromise, perhaps a coin flip could help you make the decision.” 

“I do not have a coin on me.” Ziva informed, emptying out her pockets to prove such. 

“Me neither.” Kate echoed, though she chose to keep the contents of her pockets secret.

Digging into his own pocket, Ducky quickly pulled out a shiny quarter. 

“For the sake of my sanity, you may make use of one of mine.” The Medical Examiner humored. “Now call it.” 

“Head!” Ziva quickly called out, leaving off the ‘S’ as usual. 

“Tails.” Kate sighed, sounding displeased with the choice left to her. 

Having given the coin in question a theatrical twist, it took several long seconds for it to land back in his palm. 

Heads.” Ducky confirmed, looking sympathetically upon Kate. “Off to the desert you go.” 

“I want a rematch!” Kate hotly demanded, startling Tony. 

An unwilling spectator to their squabbling for the past couple days, Gibbs lost all patience and barked out his response to the childish demand. 

“What you need to do is go!” 

Wisely sensing that they were on thin ice with their boss, the two women scurried off, Ziva all but dragging an unresisting Kate toward the Israeli-exhibit. 

“Very well done, Jethro.” Ducky appraised, looking just as relieved as him to have been relieved of the shrill voices. 

“I try.” Gibbs shrugged. 

“You succeed.” Ducky persisted, patting his shoulder. “But enough of that now. Have you and Tony decided where you’d like to start out?” Though Gibbs made it clear via facial expression that he didn’t like where the conversation was going, his selectively oblivious friend pressed on. “Jimmy and I, of course, have elected to attend the lecture on the merits of animal conservation. Would anyone like to join us?” 

Needing yet more time to formulate an answer that wouldn’t hurt his friend’s feelings, as he really wasn’t all that heartless, Gibbs cowardly turned to Abby and Tim- selfishly hoping to deflect the question unto the innocent young couple at hand. 

“Uh,” Tim blushed, completely taken unawares, “Abby and I were actually going to visit the bat-exhibit first.” 

Knowing full-well that Tim was not at all a fan of caves, having admitted early on to being a touch claustrophobic, Gibbs glowered at the couple for their shameless pursuit of a dark corner to kiss in. 

“If you don’t resurface by the time we’re ready to leave, I’m coming in after you.” He warned, leveling his glare mostly at Tim. 

“Got it.” The couple answered in tandem.

“You two had best scurry off before he changes his mind.” Ducky cautioned, wisely concerned for the young couple. 

Needing no further prompting, the young couple linked hands and hurried off, nearly running in their attempts to put as much as much distance between themselves and Gibbs as possible. 

“What say you, Jethro?” Ducky pestered. “Would you like to join Jimmy and I?” 

Gibbs was thankfully spared the unpleasant duty of declining such an unsavory offer but Tony doing so himself. 

“Papa and I go in order.” The boy suddenly decided, pointing at the cobbles they stood on. 

Clearly operating with the interests of parent’s in mind, as it was surely that group which brought in the most money, the owners of the zoo had taken the clever liberty of creating a trail of red cobbles amongst all the white to better direct those with the mind to see every last exhibit. 

Accepting the answer with his usual good-humored grace, Ducky nodded his goodbyes and steered Jimmy off toward their intended destination, the latter sneaking bites of chocolate from his pocket whenever the former looked away for more than a few seconds. 

“You sure you want to go in order?” Gibbs pressed. “That doesn’t sound like you.” 

“We start here.” Tony declared firmly, pointing firmly at the cobble that read start. 

“Yes, sir.” Gibbs obliged, snatching up Tony’s hand.


	24. Chapter 24

Thoroughly exhausted by the end of the afternoon, having gone through nearly thirty exhibits in the space of four hours, Gibbs had to work ardently to keep from falling asleep where he sat. Ever oblivious to such a fact, Tony babbled sweetly away to his newly-acquired stuffed panda, his words garbled by the grape sucker Gibbs had used to bribe the overly-excited boy into the zoo’s restaurant. 

“Welcome to the Safari Diner.” An elderly woman hummed, bounding over to their table. 

“Hello.” Tony warbled shyly, hiding behind his panda. 

While most adults would have frowned at such childish behavior in an adult, or at the very least smiled uncomfortably, the waitress assigned to them didn’t even miss a beat. 

“Can I get you three gentleman anything to drink?” 

Beaming brightly at the fact that his panda-friend had been included, Tony felt bold enough to order for himself for the first time since his accident. 

“Chocolate milk, please.” 

Scribbling the simply order down on a notepad, their waitress looked inquiring at the large Panda settled in Tony’s lap. 

“And what would your friend like to drink?” 

“I share with Bumi.” Tony politely corrected. “But Papa wants a coffee.” 

First sharing a quick glance with Gibbs to ensure that was indeed what he wanted, the wrinkled old woman scribbled down the beverage on her notepad before shuffling off to fetch them the drinks. 

“Papa.” Tony frowned, tugging on his arm. “Where’s Abby?” 

Having keenly felt his best friend’s absence all throughout the day, and at one point dissolving into tears over it, Tony once more gave voice to the most pressing matter on his mind. 

“She’ll be here soon.” Gibbs promised, squeezing his boy’s shoulder. “The whole team is joining us for supper, remember? 

“Abby, too?” Tony stressed, hugging Bumi ever closer to his chest. 

“Of course.” Gibbs assured. “I’m sure she’s already on her way.” 

Not entirely pacified by the answer, Tony tugged on his arm once more. 

“I want to sit by Abby.” He fussed, looking slightly teary-eyed. 

Wanting to thwart the onslaught of a tantrum before it had a chance to properly brew and fester, Gibbs hugged his agent close and rubbed his shoulder. 

“Abby would be happy to sit by you.” He promised, giving another squeeze for good measure. “So, let’s save her a spot.” 

Thankfully appeased with the suggestion, Tony wriggled free of his hug and firmly planted Bumi on the chair to his left, completely reassured that the panda would take its job seriously and preserve the spot for his best friend. Smiling his approval at such ingenuity, Gibbs then pulled out his cell phone to send out another reminder to his missing agents that they had all agreed to meet at the restaurant three minutes ago. It was right as he pushed send, that the brunette duo appeared at the table. 

“Here we are.” Ziva drawled, slipping into a chair on the opposite side of the table.

“Sorry we’re late.” Kate added, sitting to Ziva’s right.

Shrugging off the apology as he was far too tired to chew them out, Gibbs rubbed at his temples and frowned as he finally took notice of the change in Kate’s outfit. 

“What happened to your shirt?” Gibbs inquired, not quite sure as to whether or not he wanted to hear the answer. 

“The camels ripped it off my body.” Kate blushed, glaring at Ziva. 

“Do not give me such looks!” The Israeli giggled. “I did not tell them to do it.” 

Glad that they were, for once, not bickering, Gibbs thanked his lucky stars and allowed himself to enjoy the playful banter. 

“I’m not sure I believe you, Ziva.” Kate heatlessly retorted. “But thank you for the new shirt.” 

The garment in question was a plain white tee-shirt with a blue Star of David emblazoned on its front, very nearly identical to the one Ziva had begun the morning in save for the fact that the colors hadn’t yet faded. 

“It was zero problem of mine.” Ziva readily assured. “I was happy to do it – and the proceeds went to the IDF, too.” 

“Maybe the need to put some of that money toward better camel trainers.” Gibbs quipped, accepting his beverages from the newly-returned waitress. 

“You cannot train a camel fully.” Ziva lectured, pausing to order a coke. “You can only train them as much as they wish to be trained.” 

“How is it that you know so much about camels?” Kate queried, mirroring her neighbor’s order. 

“I lived in Israel.” Ziva reminder her. “I rode one to school every day.” 

Though she was very clearly being sarcastic, Kate readily took the bait. 

“Really?” 

“Of course not!” Ziva corrected, more bemused than annoyed. “But I did have a pet camel. His name was Moshe.” 

Having known nothing of the sort, Gibbs raised his brow at the foreign agent. 

“Why didn’t you bring him to the States?” 

“I could not.” Ziva frowned. “My father slaughtered him.” 

Grateful that Tony was engrossed by his coloring book, and utterly ignorant as to the morbid turn in the conversation, Gibbs opened his mouth to match his sympathies to Kate’s. But before he could so much as spit the words out, much less properly formulate them, he was interrupted by the arrival of Tim and Kate – the both of them being dragged by their ears by an oversized security guard. 

“Do these two belong to you?” The ogre growled, glaring at Gibbs. 

“They do.” Gibbs confirmed, rising to his feet. “So I suggest you unhand them.” 

Though he could care less about Tim’s comfort, Abby’s ear had turned notably red in the man’s powerful grasp. 

“I found these two in an off-limits portion of the bat-exhibit.” The brute grunted. “And I don’t think I need to tell you just what they were doing.” 

Finally wrenching free of the guard’s vicelike grip, Tim staggered backward and looked fully prepared to duke it out with the man for the sake of Abby’s release and honor. Wishing to avoid a full-on brawl, of the likes that would surely result in McGee getting his ass thoroughly kicked, Gibbs fixed his harshest glare on the culprit. 

“You have exactly ten seconds to release my agents.” Gibbs growled. “If you’re still holding her that time, and I sincerely hope you won’t be, I will literally reach down your throat, grab you by your steroid-shrunken dick, and turn you inside out.” 

Though the man paled and quickly released Abby, he still attempted to hold his ground. 

“As a security guard of St. Joseph’s zoo, I am fully entitled to throw them out.” 

“And as a federal agent, I’m fully entitled to turn over to the local PD for misuse of horse steroids.” Gibbs retorted. “So get out before I do just that.” 

Taking no chances with the very-real threats, the half-giant quickly lumbered off, taking care to keep his mumbled grievances inaudible. 

“Gibbs-“ Abby began. 

“Save it.” He grunted. “And sit.” 

Hurrying to obey, the chastised girl quickly took the seat Gibbs had pointed at, politely removing Bumi to another chair before doing so. But when Tim made to sit beside her, clearly intent on offering her some comfort, Gibbs growled and pointed at the spot next to Ziva. 

“I don’t want to see you two next to each other for the rest of the night.” He stipulated. “Or you’ll have more than red ears to worry about.” 

Gulping down whatever protest he had begun to formulate, Tim quickly planted his ass next to Ziva, pointedly ignoring Gibbs’s glare. It was only then that Ducky and Jimmy finally arrived, mid-conversation on the topic of illegal horn-harvesting. 

“Oh my,” Ducky exclaimed, cutting his reply to Jimmy short, “Whatever did you do to upset Gibbs, Timothy?”


	25. Chapter 25

Long since having resigned himself to such an uncomfortable fate, Tony’s incessant pleading having finally won out, Gibbs sighed loudly his displeasure and reluctantly stepped out of his bathroom into the bedroom where the majority of his team awaited him. Desperately trying to stave off the accompanying awkwardness that came with seeing them all clad in their revealing swimsuits, as well as that which came from being seen in his own, Gibbs cleared his throat a few times and tried to comfort himself with the knowledge that he wouldn’t be the fattest one of the bunch. For while he had certainly been negligent whereas as his diet was concerned, having grown less vain in his advanced age, McGee was sure to still have at least thirty pounds on him. If only, Gibbs inwardly growled, the little shithead would hurry up and get to the room. 

“I say we leave them behind to ditch-hike.” Ziva declared, standing proudly in a yellow bikini that left precious little to the imagination. 

“Hitchhike.” Gibbs corrected, hiding his untoned body behind Tony. “And we’re not leaving Abby behind.”

Not only would his forensic expert never forgive him for such a harsh slight, so too would Tony hold it against him. 

“We no leave Tim behind either!” Tony scolded the Israeli, looking highly scandalized at the very idea. 

Having gradually come to view McGee from the biased point-of-view of his best friend, Tony’s respect and subsequent idolization of the man in question was of a very strong nature. 

“Aw shucks,” Tim cartoonishly drawled, finally making his entrance with Abby, “Thank you, Tony.” 

Though the tardy man had clearly intended to take some of the attention of himself with such a theatric drawl, the idea was a poor one and the execution abysmal. If anything, the forced nonchalance only brought him more scrutiny. Because as cleverly deceptive as the aspiring writer had somehow managed to be, there was now no hiding of the fact that he had very clearly lost a great deal of weight. 

“Tim!” Tony suddenly cried, effectively breaking through the awkward atmosphere that had descended upon the room. “Your belly isn’t soft no more!” 

Though Tim blushed as red as a ripe tomato at the well-meaning compliment, Gibbs couldn’t help but admit (to himself) that he looked a fine specimen in his black Batman trunks. Evidently, such a fact was not lost on anyone else.

“Damn, McGee!” Kate catcalled, awarding him a low whistle. “How much weight have you lost?!” 

By now thoroughly mortified, Tim turned to his girlfriend for aid, only to find his feeble attempts at modesty dismissed by his extremely proud partner. 

“It must have been twenty pounds.” Ziva estimated. “Perhaps more.” 

“Well done, Timothy.” Ducky applauded. “You’ve surely added several years unto your life.” 

“Forget about that!” Kate persisted, putting a hand to McGee’s stomach. “Just look at those abs!” 

For what was surely the first time in her life, the forensic expert’s patience waned thin. 

“It was forty pounds.” Abby corrected, actually slapping the hand away. “And he still looked good either way!” 

Frightened by the suddenly severe expression on her good friend’s face, Kate quickly held up her hands in surrender and moved to stand behind Ziva. 

“Papa,” Tony pestered, tugging at his arm, “Aren’t you gonna tell Tim he did a good job, too?” 

Seeing no way out of the situation, at least not without offended both Abby and Tony, Gibbs cursed his luck and growled his reply. 

“Good work, McGee.” 

Positively glowing at the accolades, Tim beamed widely and gave his girlfriend a one-armed hug. 

“See.” Abby crowed, leaning into the embrace. “I told you they wouldn’t poke fun at you.” 

“Why we make fun of you?” Tony frowned, sounding highly offended at the insinuation. 

“We,” Tim blushed, “Because I used to be fat.” 

Frowning at the confession, Tony rushed to wrap Tim in a big bear hug. 

“You no fat.” He insisted. “Just…soft.” 

“Do not worry, McGee.” Ziva grinned. “It is a problem many men have.” 

Biting down on his tongue to keep from laughing, as Abby was heartily glaring at those who did, Gibbs distracted himself with hunting down the bottle of sunscreen had just taken out of one of Tony’s suitcases. 

“Arms out, Monkey.” He commanded, gently untangling his child from Tim. 

Looking highly betrayed at the appearance of the spray bottle he loathed entirely, Tony looked entirely mutinous. 

“Is cold.” He complained, wrapping his arms about his chest. 

“It’ll be over in ten seconds.” Gibbs promised. 

As that prompted yet another inappropriate mark from Ziva, the insinuation that such was also a problem Tim shared, Abby stamped her foot and readily informed the room (much to Gibbs’s disgust) that her boyfriend was more than capable of rocking the coffin.

“Why Tim rock the coffin?” Tony pestered. “Does it help him sleep?” 

As Kate hastily put a hand over Ziva’s mouth, clearly hoping to spare her friend Abby’s wrath, Gibbs shook his head and cursed the Director once more. 

“Arms out.” He ordered again, hoping to deflect attention away from the question. 

“You no answer my question.” Tony argued, still making no moves to obey. 

“Yes.” Gibbs snapped. “I’m sure after a certain night of rocking the coffin they both get tired.” 

As Ziva snorted out laughter from beneath Kate’s hand, Gibbs waggled the bottle of sunscreen once more. 

“You yelleded at me.” Tony accused, looking thoroughly put out at the experience. 

Sensing an impending tantrum, Gibbs gave his team a pointed look, wishing to have the room to himself to deal with his child. 

“C’mon.” Tony Abby coaxed, unwilling to abandon her friend. “You don’t want to get sunburned, do you?” 

“Is slimy.” Tony fussed with a petulant frown. 

“Not this kind!” Abby promised. “It’s spray-on!” 

When Tony made no moves to uncross his arms, it was Tim who next intervened, easily sensing the tension growing in the room. 

“I bet I could get my sunscreen on faster than you can.” He challenged, tossing Abby the bottle of the same brand. 

“Can not!” Tony retorted, stomping his foot. 

“Can so.” Tim argued, spreading out his arms. 

Not wanting to risk the chance of being bested by Tim, Tony followed suit and quickly spread out his own arms, looking at Gibbs expectantly. 

“I thought it was too cold?” Gibbs challenged. 

“Is not!” Tony whined, bouncing on his toes as Abby began to spray her boyfriend down. 

“No?” Gibbs queried, still making no moves to spray. “But isn’t it too greasy?” 

“Is not!” Tony assured, looking fully prepared to tackle him. 

“Well,” Gibbs sighed, “If you say so.” 

“I do, I do!” Tony promised. 

Seeing as Tim was already coated in several thick layers of the spray, the result of the couple wishing to allow Tony to win, Gibbs finally started to spray.


	26. Chapter 26

Though the Splash Zone wasn’t as large a waterpark as Gibbs might have expected, espousing only seven waterslides compared to the dozens owned by the facility he had habitually taken Kelly to in her early childhood, it’s generous missions statement immediately endeared him to the establishment as it was that which gave assurances to it’s patrons that all individuals (yes, all) were welcomed to enjoy the attractions.   
“Is hot.” Tony groused, still decidedly cranky from the half-hour car ride. 

“I know.” Gibbs sighed, humoring the boy. “That’s why we came to the water-park.” 

Still wearing an uncharacteristic scowl, Tony huffed loudly and gazed distrustfully at the myriad of salt-water-filled pools. 

“No want to swim in hot water.” 

Stifling down his laughter at such an absurd assumption, knowing that such an action would nothing more than further aggravate the already-cranky agent, Gibbs crept a few feet forward and stuck his toes into the lazy river. 

“The water isn’t hot, see?” Gibbs announced, beckoning his child nearer. 

Though Tony looked as if he wanted to do nothing more than stand where he was and continue to pout, he quickly gave in to Gibb’s coaxing and moved to join him by the lazy river. 

“Go on,” Gibbs encouraged, “Test the water for yourself.” 

Curiosity outweighing his desire to pout, the oversized toddler put a steadying hand on his shoulder before dipping his own toes in the salty water. 

“Is cold!” Tony yelped, hastily removing the offended foot. 

“It’s supposed to be cold.” Gibbs sighed, dangerously near to losing his patience with the contrary man. “How else would you keep cool in the sun?” 

“With ice cream.” Tony answered, seeming puzzled that he should be asked such a simple question. 

Only narrowly resisting the urge to bark out an order for his boy to quit being so goddamn smart-mouthed with him, Gibbs closed his eyes and counted to ten before giving answer to the boy. 

“If you can behave yourself – “ 

“I always good!” Tony interrupted, stomping his foot. 

Opting not to pick a battle with the offended youth over his decided lack of good manners, Gibbs once more counted to ten before continuing. 

“If you can behave yourself,” Gibbs restarted, leveling his boy with a soft glare, “We can stop for ice cream on the way back to the hotel.” 

“I no want ice cream.” Tony contradicted. “I want to swim.” 

Deciding that it wouldn’t be wise to question the inconsistent man over his sudden change of heart, as it would be akin to looking a gift horse in the mouth, Gibbs sighed loudly his relief and smiled at his fussy charge. 

“Sounds good to me. Where should we start?” 

“Wanna go with Abby.” Tony insisted, pointing at the lazy river. 

While Gibbs was not at all offended by the innocent request, as his child had always been rather attached to the woman in question, he found he couldn’t help but frown as Tony looked to him for an answer. For as much as Abby adored the little Monkey, which was quite a lot, the fact still remained that it was quickly becoming evident to Gibbs that Tony’s sudden clinginess to her person was starting to ware not only one her own nerves, but Tim’s as well. 

“I think Abby is going to swim with Tim for a little bit first.” Gibbs answered diplomatically. “But once she’s finished, I’m sure she’ll be happy to swim with you.” 

Though the promise of anytime spent with the forensics expert would have normally thrilled him, Tony looked as if Gibbs had backhanded him with such an answer. 

“No!” He hollered, stomping both his feet. “Abby swim with me!” 

Wishing to stave off a tantrum, as he had no real wish to be thrown out of such an expensive facility, Gibbs raised a warning brow at his misbehaving ward and gently repositioned him so that he was facing the Tunnel of Love.

“Abby is already in wait for another ride.” He lectured, gesturing to the back of the line where said woman worked to keep her boyfriend hostage. “You’ll just have to wait for her.” 

Much to his great surprise, and grief, Tony promptly burst into tears at the reasonable argument, his bottom lip trembling forlornly even as he glared at the couple in question. 

“Why Abby no want to play with me no more?” He spluttered, throwing his arms about Gibbs’s neck. 

Taken mentally off-guard by the question, as well as physical by the sudden embrace, Gibbs very nearly tumbled backward into the lazy river. It was only by complete luck, as well as the assistance of a conveniently-placed lifeguard tower, that he avoided such an unpleasant fate. 

“Tony,” Gibbs frowned, squeezing the boy tightly, “Whatever are you going on about?” 

Though he knew full well the cause behind the boy’s agony, Gibbs thought that allowing the distraught agent to work his feelings out for himself would be for the best. 

“Abby no play with me no more.” Tony wailed into his shoulder, his entire body wracked with sobs. “She only play with Tim, now.” 

Far too ‘young’ to understand why his Abby was suddenly forgoing his company for that of another ‘boy,’ the sudden neglect was all too much for his little heart to bare. 

“Now, Tony.” Gibbs frowned, rubbing his back. “You know that’s not true. Abby plays plenty with you. Didn’t she just paint your toenails this morning?” 

Though Gibbs had been ardently against such a practice, having not wished for his boy to receive any undue scorn from an ignorant populace, his reservations had gone largely ignored – the end result of such being that Tony’s toenails were now a vivid green. 

“Yeah.” His child sniffled. “But Tim was there, too.” 

Not one to allow himself to be bested in an argument, Gibbs pressed onward. 

“Well, didn’t she watch Frozen with you last night?” 

Growling at the question, Tony buried his head in Gibbs’s shoulder. 

“But Abby snuggled with Tim, not me.” 

Quickly becoming stymied, as he really was struggling to recall the last time Tony had been given any Tim-Free Abby time, Gibbs sighed inwardly and cursed himself for not having discussed the issue of his child’s jealousy earlier. 

“Tony – “ 

“No like Tim!” His boy interrupted, his voice nearly a growl. “He’s a jerk.” 

Unwilling to let that particular bit of rudeness slide, Gibbs gently (but firmly) swatted Tony’s backside. 

“We don’t speak like that about our team.” He reprimanded, giving one more swat. 

As the swim-diaper beneath his batman trunks had absorbed the great majority of the impact, Tony didn’t wail as loudly as he might have at being swatted. 

“But…but…but…Tim steal…steal...Abby from me.” Tony hiccupped, struggling to control his breathing. 

“Now you listen here,” Gibbs scolded, holding his boy tightly, “Nobody has stolen Abby away from you.” 

“But…she no play with me no more.” Tony snuffled, wiping his nose on Gibb’s bare shoulder. “She only wants to play with Tim now.” 

Not knowing what else he could possible do to soothe the toddler’s fears of being replaced, Gibbs settled for using the little bit of psychology he had learned during his long years of dealing with all sorts of people. 

“Abby does want to play with Tim a lot more now. You’re absolutely right on that count.” Gibbs lectured. “But,” He stipulated, cutting Tony off mid-wail, “I think Tony’s also been too busy for Abby.” 

Looking scandalized at the very thought, Tony shook his head profusely and muttered several garbled arguments as to why such a thing couldn’t possibly be so. 

“No?” Gibbs hummed, swiping the tears away from the boy’s cheeks. “You don’t think you’ve been spending most of your time with me? Instead of with Abby?” 

“But…” Tony floundered, looking desperate. “That’s different.” 

“Why?” Gibbs challenged, not unkindly. 

“Cause you’re my Papa.” He answered quickly, clinging tightly to Gibbs. 

Glad to find that his boy was following the exact train of thought he wished him to, Gibbs gave him a squeeze of encouragement and pressed onward. 

“And Tim is Abby’s boyfriend.” He concluded. “Which means he just wants some alone time with her.” 

“But why?” Tony demanded, looking as if such a thing were highly unjust. 

“The same reason I sometimes want alone time with you.” 

“Why?” Tony repeated, confusion adding to his angst. 

“Because I love you, you little Monkey. And I don’t like sharing you all the time.”


	27. Chapter 27

Much to Gibb’s absolute delight, the Splash Zone held true to its promise of inclusivity all the way up to it’s slightly-heated Kiddie Pool. For not only did it boast possession of slides for ‘regular’ children, so too did it feature a slide customized to allow those who were more adult-sized to participate in the fun as well. And not only that, but so too did the confined little area have a small series of differently-sized fountains that anyone (of any size) could play within- something that Tony had absolutely loved doing with his beloved Abby, all the way up until the point where his arms had become completely exhausted from all the splashing he had done. 

It had been then, and only then, that the overly-hyper man had begun to settle – his vast excitement at being newly reconciled to a more-understanding Abby having gradually been usurped by his sudden discovery of the brightly-colored fish decorating the bottom of the pool. Wide-eyed and giggling softly, Tony sat on his bottom and softly babbled at them, making no real movements other than to point out a particularly interesting fish to his best friend. 

Seated only a few feet away, in order to allow the two some much-needed bonding time, Gibbs couldn’t help but smile as he watched his precocious charge set about to naming the hundreds of fish – his mouth moving nonstop all the while save for when he paused to converse with Abby about the suitability of a name or elsewise to make inquiries about the perceived gender of some of them. 

“Your boy is sure to sleep well tonight, Jethro.” Ducky observed with a smirk, kicking his feet a bit in the water. 

“I sure hope so.” Gibbs admitted, stifling a yawn. 

Almost by osmosis, Tony yawned too, his large green eyes drooping nearly closed as he leaned against Abby’s shoulder for support. Fully embracing such unaffected affection, the gentle-hearted goth beamed widely and planted a kiss to the sleepy agent’s temple, earning herself a loud giggle in return. 

“I say, Jethro.” Ducky began, smiling himself at the happy pair. “However did you convince Timothy to let Abigail alone for an hour?” 

Although it gave Gibbs great pains to admit aloud that he had resorted to using bribery on one of his fully-functioning agents, he was feeling markedly charitable and graciously decided to clue his friend in. 

“I promised that I wouldn’t badger him about dating Abby for the rest of the trip.” 

“Making such a promise must have surely smarted.” Ducky smirked, displaying no real signs of sympathy. 

Although it was expressively forbidden to do so by the iron-clad rules governing Splash Zone patron’s behaviors, Gibbs reached a strong hand into the salty water and quickly brought it back up to splash Ducky full-on in the face with the tepid liquid. 

“Jethro!” Ducky scolded, spitting out the salt-water. “Shame on you! What sort of example are you setting for your child?” 

“The boy didn’t see a thing.” Gibbs shrugged, highly pleased with himself. 

“Are you so sure?” The Medical Examiner queried, rubbing the salt from his eyes. 

Not liking the tone of such a leading question, Gibbs paused in his gloating long enough to look toward his child. Sure enough, much to the vindication of Ducky, he soon found himself facing off with a scowling toddler – the disappointed boy in question waggling a pruned finger in his direction. Wishing to avoid a confrontation from the unamused toddler, no matter how hilarious such a ‘serious’ conversation would be, Gibbs choked down his laughter and held his hands up in surrender – kindly patting Ducky’s back all the while in a gesture of friendship. 

“My goodness,” The still-damp Medical Examiner quipped, “That boy takes after you to no end.” 

Though Gibbs felt no small amount of pride in hearing someone else give credence to the thoughts he had very often kept to himself, he found he couldn’t help but play at being nonchalant. 

“I’m not quite sure about that.” He teased. “I still think his glower needs some more work.” 

Though Ducky rolled his eyes at such a feigned dismissal, the Medical Examiner seemed more than content to remain seated beside Gibbs for the time being. 

“Tony seems to be feeling rather ‘small’ today.” His companion observed, after a good ten minutes of companionable silence had elapsed. 

Seeing as how Tony’s vocabulary had rapidly declined throughout the space of the day, as well as his dexterity, Gibbs couldn’t help but agree. 

“He gets that way every now and then.” 

And, if Gibbs was being completely honest himself, he absolutely lived for those days when his boy was more infant than toddler. For not only did it mean getting even more snuggles than he was already currently receiving at the moment, which was admittedly quite a lot, he also felt as if it somehow increased the bonding between them. 

“Oh dear,” Ducky softly exclaimed, interrupted his musings, “Here comes trouble.” 

Reluctantly looking away from the endearing scene of Tony planting a slobbery kiss on Abby’s forehead, Gibbs turned in the direction Ducky was looking in and was promptly greeted by the sight of a very angry Ziva stomping toward him – a laughing Kate and Tim trailing a safe distance behind her. 

“My Lord!” Ducky pipped. “What has happened to you?” 

“Ziva…Ziva…well…Ziva lost her top going down the slide.” Jimmy explained, blushing profusely all the way down to his toes. 

Glancing at the woman in question, Gibbs found the explanation utterly unnecessary – as the Israeli was now very noticeably wearing only a small towel around her upper half. 

“We must go now.” The mortified brunette demanded, her cheeks all aglow. 

“Why?” Tim heckled. “You’re the only one who’s embarrassed.” 

“Half this water park has seen my breasts.” Ziva growled, punching him in the gut. “We cannot stay!” 

As Tim (deservedly) doubled over in pain, Kate took it upon herself to resume the good-natured heckling. 

“I told you several times not to wear a swimsuit that…flimsy.” 

Before the ladies could enter into yet another squabble, Gibbs quickly intervened. 

“It’s nearly time we left anyways.” He announced, rising to his feet. “Let’s get going.” 

Leaving the majority of his team to scamper off to their respective dressing rooms, Gibbs wading across the Kiddie-Pool to fetch Abby and a half-asleep Tony. 

“Did you have fun with Abby?” He questioned, helping the toddler climb to his feet. 

“Fishies.” Tony warbled, rubbing at his eyes. 

Carefully helping the boy climb up out of the pool, using both hands so that there was no possibility of his falling back into the water, Gibbs nodded his head and lead the boy towards the men’s dressing facility. 

“Abby!” Tony squawked, looking alarmed as he watched the woman head off in the opposite direction. 

“Abby needs to get dressed with the rest of the girls.” Gibbs was quick to comfort. “We’ll meet her out front.” 

Trusting Gibbs implicitly not to lie, Tony once more grabbed Gibbs’s hand and soothed himself by sticking a thumb into his mouth. Figuring that it wasn’t the worst thing in the world for him to stick in his mouth, as the boy had once nearly swallowed a bit of paint he had left out, Gibbs just shrugged and lead him into the men’s changing room. 

“Cowd.” Tony complained, shivering in the sudden temperature change. 

“I know, I know.” Gibbs soothed. “Let me just grab your bag and we’ll get you into something warm.”


	28. Chapter 28

Having seen to it that Tony was immediately fed upon their return to the hotel room, as he had very nearly fallen asleep half-a-dozen times in the van, Gibbs now had the explicit satisfaction of holding the semi-coherent infant in his arms. Green eyes bleary, and nearly glossed over with a pre-sleep gleam, Tony snuffled softly in the gentle embrace – a few greedy grunts erupting from his mouth as he slowly nursed a bottle of warmed milk. 

“What time are we heading out tomorrow, Jethro?” Ducky questioned, taking care to keep his voice at a whisper. 

“We’ll be on the road at ten.” Gibbs replied. “I figured we could all use a bit of a lie-in after such a long week.” 

“That’s very generous of you.” Ducky praised, leaning back into his pillows. “You really are growing soft, aren’t you?” 

Not wishing to jostle the infant nuzzled in his arms, Gibbs just settled for glaring at his antagonizer. 

“Keep it up and I’ll short-sheet your bed.” He threatened. 

“I think not.” Ducky calmly retorted. “For I have no real plans on moving from this bed.” 

“We’re old.” Gibbs argued. “You’ll be getting up eventually to use the head.” 

Though the Medical Examiner looked highly offended at such an insinuation, no matter how truthful it was, he made no move to offer a retort – very likely for the first time in his life stymied with such a matter. Proud of himself for accomplishing such a feat, as the success rate was really quite rare, Gibbs inwardly gloated and pulled Tony closer. 

“I dare say your Papa is quite grumpy, Anthony.” 

Too preoccupied with the need to finish off his beverage, Tony ignored the jibe against his father and simply suckled faster. Wishing to keep the boy from getting ill from such a hasty speed, Gibbs gently tugged the bottle away and opened his mouth – preparing to suggest caution rather than to scold. But before he could so much as form the first word on his tongue, much less articulate the first syllable, Jimmy came bursting into their room.

“Has everybody suddenly forgotten how to knock whilst on this trip?” Ducky questioned, his tone mild as it was his favorite person he was addressing. 

“Sorry, Ducky.” Jimmy apologized, looking a bit shaken. “But…But I got kicked out of my room.” 

Annoyed at having his privacy interrupted, yet again, Gibbs scowled. 

“It’s your room too, Palmer,” He growled, “So get back in there.” 

Paling a bit at Gibb’s more unfriendly tone, the Autopsy Gremlin turned to his supervisor for assistance. 

“Come now, Jimmy,” Ducky coaxed, “You must learn to assert yourself.” 

“I…I can’t.” He squeaked. “Abby…Abby insisted I stay away…and well, she…she wasn’t too kind about it.” 

Swallowing down the bile in his throat that had come with the implicit knowledge that Tim and Abby were now likely going at it like a pair of intimacy-deprived rabbits, Gibbs shook his head and resolved to let Ducky decide on what to do with the displaced Jimmy. 

“Well, we cannot have that.” Ducky declared, slipping out of bed. 

“I…I wouldn’t bother them.” Jimmy protested, frowning as his mentor moved toward the door. “I can just sleep on the floor.” 

“Nonsense. That is highly unacceptable.” The Medical Examiner protested, placing a hand on the door handle. “And I plan to express that sentiment quite succinctly with Ms. Abigail and her beau.” 

“Wait.” Jimmy persisted, sidling in front of his supervisor to block the door. “You don’t want to go in there.” 

Placing his hands on his skinny hips to convey his disappointment at the childish behavior, Ducky frowned at his errant assistant. 

“Why ever not?” He queried, refusing to be cowed. 

“Because…Abby…Abby has been sick.” Jimmy blushed, looking as if he had given voice to something far more scandalous. 

“What do you mean ‘sick?’” Gibbs demanded, concern flooding into his body. 

“I mean just that.” Jimmy stammered. “She’s been sick…and thrown up all over the room.” 

Seeing as how Abby had drank a full half-gallon of chocolate milk on the van ride back, even though Gibbs and Tim had explicitly warned her not to do with the expiration date being a few days passed, he was far from surprised at her sudden illness. 

“Goddammit.” Gibbs grumbled. “I told her not her not to drink that milk.” 

“Perhaps this might serve as a lesson to Abigail.” Ducky suggested. “I always am getting unto her about proper food storage and safety.” 

“Where’s the Pepto?” Gibbs demanded, not wishing the girl to suffer. “I’ll go bring her a capful.” 

“Now, now, Jethro, there’s no need to wake the baby.” Ducky scolded. “I can tend to Abigail just as well as you can.”


	29. Chapter 29

For the first time in more than a month, Gibbs had found his home absurdly silent upon his awakening. Rapidly finding himself strangely unsettled by such a foreign experience as he dressed for the day, as he had once full-heartedly enjoyed the phenomenon of a noiseless house, he soon found himself strolling aimlessly into his living room to turn on the television – all but desperate for a bit of background noise to stave off the loneliness he was sure to feel as he sipped at his coffee and awaited the early arrival of the PCA he had half the mind to hire. 

But when such a half-hearted tactic soon failed to appease him, finding the informercial about a cordless vacuum far more annoying than it was soothing, Gibbs caved on his earlier on his earlier resolved and picked up his cellphone to dial Abby – hoping all the while that the young woman in question wouldn’t grow irritated from finding herself being called for the seventh time in fourteen hours. 

“Hey, Boss.” Tim chirped, ending his greeting on a loud yawn. “Did you enjoy your night off?” 

Though he found himself childishly irritated that it had not been Abby to answer, Gibbs still resolved to remain somewhat cordial as the man-in-question had selflessly assisted his girlfriend in the babysitting of Tony. 

“It was…quiet.” Gibbs admitted, his frown deepening at the confession. “How was yours?” 

Not failing to grasp the loaded nature of such a leading question, McGee responded with an amused chuckle before giving answer. 

“Tony was very well behaved.” He assured. “We didn’t even have to scold him once.” 

Having spent the majority of the night worried sick about the prospect of Tony throwing a tantrum without his being there to settle his mood, Gibbs breathed out a sigh of relief at the news. 

“He and Abby still asleep?” 

“Tony isn’t.” Tim replied. “Did you want to talk to him?” 

“Sure.” Gibbs agreed, trying hard not too sound too excited. “Put him on.” 

There was a brief silence as McGee moved to do just that, during which time Gibbs could’ve sworn he overheard said man scolding the boy-in-question off the kitchen table. 

“Papa!” Tony greeted, when at last the phone had found its way into his hands. 

“Hey, Monkey.” Gibbs greeted warmly. “How was the sleepover?” 

“Great!” Tony yelled into his hear, loudly chewing his breakfast. “Tim letted my play PlayStation with him! And Abby and I had a tea-party!” 

“Sounds like you had a good time, Kiddo.” Gibbs observed, his smile widening. 

Deciding to take a moment to chew something particularly crunchy, it was several seconds before Tony gave answer. 

“It was!” He agreed. “But not when Abby gotted sick.” The boy added in an afterthought.

“Is Abby still sick?” Gibbs queried, starting to grow concerned over whether or not spoiled milk could give you food poisoning. 

“Only a just a little bit.” Tony assured. “Tim says she’s having ‘lady troubles.’”

Though he blushed at such vulgar candor, Gibbs couldn’t help but find himself relieved that Abby’s ailment was something far more natural than sinister. 

“Ah. Gotcha.” He answered. “Tell Tim to get her some peppermint tea.” 

“Okay, Papa!” Tony readily agreed, forever eager to please. 

Before Gibbs could suggest that chocolate might be added to that list, three loud knocks sounded on his door. 

“Someone’s at the door, Monkey.” Gibbs announced, refusing to mention who. “I have to go.” 

Though he clearly tried to keep in quiet, Gibbs clearly heard a loud sigh on the other line. 

“I’ll be picking you up for lunch before you know it.” He promised. “Maybe we’ll even go to the park.” 

“Okay!” The happy voice had returned. “Bye-bye, Papa. Love you!” Tony warbled sweetly. 

“Love you, too.” He murmured into the phone. “Be good.”


	30. Chapter 30

Juanita Hernandez was markedly tall woman, her unique stature nearly enabling her to look Gibbs directly in the eyes without any significant effort on her part. Finding himself slightly unsettled by such an unusual shift in dynamics, as well as by the presence of the muscles on her dark arms, Gibbs unfortunately found himself staring. Wishing to recover his manners, as well as his dignity, he blinked rapidly and quickly worked to rush such a rude expression off his face. 

“Good morning, Sir.” She greeted, her voice deep. “I’m Juanita Hernandez.” 

Her grip was strong and firm as they shook hands, and Gibbs found himself thinking such an attribute a good sign of her character. 

“Call me Gibbs.” He insisted, stepping aside to allow her entrance. 

“Call me Juana.” She echoed, slipping inside. 

Though he did not hold to such a policy, finding it far too frivolous for his tastes, the long-haired woman kicked off her shoes the moment she was inside. 

“You have a lovely home.” She remarked, following him into the kitchen. 

“Thanks.” Gibbs grunted, shrugging his shoulders. “Can I get you some coffee before we begin?” 

“No, thanks.” She demurred. “I don’t drink coffee.” 

Though he was not one to often trust a person who disliked his beverage of choice, her earlier handshake and no-nonsense greeting served to mitigate whatever concern he harbored at her distinct lack of enjoyment when faced with the offer of good coffee. 

“Well then,” He grunted, “Let’s get started.” 

“Of course.” Juana readily agreed, settling herself into the chair Gibbs had pulled out for her. 

Though her posture was painfully stiff, it was solid enough to make any Marine proud. 

“I have a list of questions.” He announced, waving a notebook at her. 

“Ask away.” She obliged, seeming entirely undaunted by the thickness of the stationary. 

Not knowing whether he should find such nonchalance encouraging, having had no experience in the hiring of a caregiver, Gibbs frowned and did as bid. 

“How long have you been doing this sort of work?” 

“I’ve been caring for people since I was a child.” Juana answered easily. “First with my grandfather and uncle, and then with other people’s families.” 

Having already made Abby run three extensive background checks on the woman, Gibbs knew such words to be the truth. 

“You ever care for any children?” 

“Children?” Juana frowned. “I thought I was to care for your son?” 

The confusion, while understandable, did little to lesson Gibb’s impatience. 

“Just answer the question.” He insisted, not too unkindly. 

“I’ve cared for dozens of children in lifetime.” She shrugged. “I was the go-to nanny for my elder brothers.” 

“So you’ve dealt with toddlers, yes?” 

“Nearly a dozen different ones, yes.” 

Juana smiled fondly as she answered, and Gibbs took that to mean she had heartily enjoyed the experience. 

“You know CPR? First Aid?” 

Though he had not meant the question to be of a condescending nature, Juana’s frown clearly indicated she had taken it in such a way. 

“The agency wouldn’t have hired if I wasn’t certified in both.” 

Figuring that such sass had been well-deserved, Gibbs frowned and moved onward. 

“What was your favorite part about your last job?” 

While he found the question insipid in nature, all the resources he had referred to for advice on the hiring of a nanny insisted it be asked. 

“I enjoyed bonding with the gentleman I cared for.” Juana reflected fondly. “He always had the most wonderful stories to tell.” 

Gibbs politely responded to her reflection with a nod. 

“Was there anything you didn’t care for at your last job?” 

Juana scowled at the question but was quick to answer. 

“I suppose I didn’t much care for his racist wife.” 

Finding the concept of racism a childish and outdated phenomenon, Gibbs frowned to convey his sympathies. 

“You won’t have to worry about any of that here.” He promised. 

“I should hope not.” Juana agreed, a very Ziva-like expression crossing her face. 

More amused than alarmed at the comparison, Gibbs allowed himself a smirk before unto the next question. 

“Have you ever cared for a person that had…” Gibbs faltered. 

“Yes?” Juana encouraged, seemingly just as impatient as was he. 

“A person with special needs?” He finally supplied. 

“The gentleman I last cared for was wheelchair bound as well as incontinent.” Juana supplied. “He was also prone to fits of dementia.” 

Figuring it to be a good sign that Juana had experience in dealing with both incontinence and erratic behavior, Gibbs finally decided to clue the woman on to what she might expect.


	31. Chapter 31

Much to her credit, Juana had taken the news of Tony’s rare condition surprisingly well, her only outward sign of shock having been that of her dark-brown eyes widening. But whether that was evidence of the possession of extreme composure, or rather lack of concern, Gibbs had yet to detect. 

“Well?” He pressed, when after a considerable time the silence had become oppressive.

“Special Needs or not,” Juana began, sitting straighter in her chair, “I still wish to have the position.” 

“But can you handle it?” Gibbs pressed, his tone very similar to the one he interrogated people with.

Meeting his gaze unflinchingly, Juana nodded. 

“I know I can.” 

Taking note of the sincerity in her large eyes, Gibbs made up his mind right then to hire her. His only caveat to making such a decision known, of course, being his inability to leave any job half-done. 

“Now, if I do hire you,” Gibbs began anew, putting emphasis on the first word, “Would you be available to work full-time hours?” 

“I was actually hoping for full-time hours.” Juana confided, quite pointedly.

“That’s great.” Gibbs obliged. “But just how flexible are you?” 

As it was considered a good day if was able to leave his desk at five, Gibbs needed someone who would not raise a ruckus at being kept late. 

“I can be as flexible as you need me to be.” Juana promised. “I have no one I need to hurry home for.” 

Not knowing how to reply to such a personal remark, Gibbs just cleared his throat and pressed on. 

“Now, you do understand that Tony is a big guy, yes?” He interrogated. “Are you absolutely certain that you’re going to able to…wrangle him?” 

Beyond six-feet, and well-muscled to boot, it was no mere exaggeration Gibbs was making. In fact, had the man in question not devoted himself to a life of crime-investigation, he might very well have been approached for draft by an NFL coach. 

“I once cared for a 500-pound woman.” Juana dismissed with a smile. “And I can handle that beast, I can surely handle your son.”

All his major concerns now addressed, and quite pleasingly at that, Gibbs stood from his chair and stuck out a hand. Laboring under no delusions as to what an action might mean, Juana all but jumped to her feet to accept the proffered hand. 

“You’re hired.” Gibbs announced, feeling that only such words could make it official.

“When do I start?” Juana queried, her smile one of immense satisfaction. 

Though he did not wish to impose upon her in any such way, especially so early on in their relationship, Gibbs forced himself to do so – the necessity of securing care for Tony before he returned to work the prompter of such unpleasantries. 

“Does Monday morning work for you?” 

“Monday morning sounds perfect.” Juana assured, her brown eyes still aglow. 

Having not wished to incur the Director’s wrath by calling out so soon after a vacation, one in which he had spent a great deal of her money, Gibbs let out a sigh of relief. 

“Great.” Gibbs answered, highly ingratiated. “But do you have any questions for me before you go?” 

“Only a few.” Juana allowed. 

“Let’s hear them, then.” Gibbs encouraged. 

Though he liked the formidable matron well enough, Gibbs was all but in a hurry to surprise Tony with an early pick-up. 

“Should there be an emergency, I need to know who is allowed to act on your behalf where Tony is concerned.” 

Cursing himself for not even having thought of such a thing, Gibbs frowned and quickly racked his brain for an acceptable answer. To his relief, it was not long at all before he settled upon one. 

“Ducky Mallard and Abagail Scuito.” He easily decided. “I’ll provide you a photo of each on Monday.” 

Nodding her approval at such easy terms, the Filipino woman moved on to her next question. 

“Does your boy have any food allergies? Medication?” 

“No, nothing like that.” Gibbs was quick to assure. “Just keep him away from grapefruit – they upset his stomach.” 

Gibbs frowned as he shared that little tidbit about his son with Juana, having learned himself the hard way such a fact. 

“One last question,” The towering matron pressed, “What are your views on discipline?” 

Although he absolutely despised thinking about the possibility of Tony needing any disciplining from the woman, Gibbs knew full-well that such was more than just a possibility. 

“You are to do absolutely nothing physical.” He stressed. “Nothing. Not even a swat.” 

Though he himself had issued a few swats to Tony’s backside, Gibbs knew he could never allow anyone else such an unpleasant privilege. 

“I take it time-outs are the discipline of choice?” Juana asked. 

“Yes.” Gibbs replied firmly. “Nothing physical.” 

“Understood.” She answered, unwaveringly meeting his gaze. 

Pleased to find that they had reached an accord on such a distasteful topic, Gibbs cleared his throat and showed her to the door. 

“I’ll come early on Monday.” She avowed. “So that Tony has time to get used to me.”


	32. Chapter 32

Monday morning had come all too early for the Gibbs household, not only for the patriarch himself but so too for the fussy toddler that hadn’t been allowed his customary lie-in. As clingy as a koala, and as whiny as an unfed housecat, Tony all but refused to be removed from his company for more than the space of a minute – his neediness at one point having prompted him to sit outside the bathroom door as Gibbs did his business. 

“It won’t be so bad, Tony.” Gibbs soothed, holding closely the distraught boy seated on his lap. “You’ll like Juana. I know you will.” 

“I won’t.” Tony argued, looking dangerously near to tears. 

Having already had this conservation half-a-hundred times with the boy the previous day, Gibbs wanted to do nothing more than snap at his wayward agent to quit being so goddamn petulant. But seeing as Tony was now only a little boy, and a well-spoiled one at that, he knew he could do no such thing. 

“You will.” Gibbs corrected, squeezing the boy tight. “I promise.” 

As he might have expected, Tony seemed far from appeased at such a dismissive answer. 

“But why I no go to work with you?” He once more demanded, bottom lip wobbling dangerously. “I be good!” 

Not wanting to start his first Monday back at work with his Tony’s tears staining his shirt, Gibbs resolved to see a smile return to his child’s face. 

“Your behavior has nothing to do with it, Monkey.” Gibbs frowned, stroking his uncombed curls. “It’s just…well, the Director doesn’t want you coming to the Yard anymore.” 

Given that he received a thorough ass-chewing from said woman about improper room charges, Gibbs had no qualms whatsoever in using her as the proverbial bad guy. 

“But why?” Tony cried, fat tears dripping down his reddening cheeks. “I nice to her.” 

“It has nothing to do with your behavior.” Gibbs reiterated. “It’s just that…well, the Director doesn’t think it’s safe – and to be honest, neither do I.” 

Seeing as how Tony was being frequently ushered down to the morgue, or lab, for supervision whilst the rest of the team went out to investigate a crime scene, the statement was far from an exaggerated one. For who even knew what kind of trouble an unsupervised toddler could get into in such dangerous areas. 

“But…But I stay with Abby.” Tony persisted, crying freely now. 

“The Director doesn’t want you doing that anymore.” Gibbs frowned, swiping at the tears as they fell. “She thought you be distracting.” 

“But I not!” Tony wailed, entirely despondent. “Tell her!” 

“I did, Tony, I did. And she just wasn’t budging.” Gibbs explained, kissing his teary cheeks. “And…and neither am I.” 

Upon hearing the news that he would not be reprieved, Tony threw back his head and began to wail anew, the plaintive cries as equally ear-piercing as they were heart-breaking. Not knowing what else was to be done to assuage the boy’s fears, as resorting to reasoning had utterly failed, Gibbs simply sat and hugged his child close. 

And that was precisely how Juana found them half-an-hour later. 

“It’s always hardest for them on the first day.” She sympathized, walking through the kitchen door with only a knock to announce her presence. 

“I’m not happy with it either.” Gibbs grumbled, his shirt thoroughly coated in tears and snot. 

“It gets easier.” The PCA reassured, plopping her purse down on the kitchen table. 

Given that he had never experienced such a phenomenon himself, Shannon having always stayed home with Kelly, Gibbs was reluctantly forced to appeal to the authority on the subject. 

“Juana is here.” Gibbs murmured to Tony. “Aren’t you going to at least say hi?” 

Giving a loud whine, the petulant toddler only further buried his head in Gibbs’s shoulder. 

“Tony,” Gibbs mildly scolded, “You’re going to hurt her feelings.” 

A perpetual people-pleaser, Tony muttered a quick hello, the greeting hopelessly garbled by the interference of Gibbs’s shirt. 

“Hello, Tony.” Juana sang. “It’s very nice to meet you. Won’t you shake my hand?” 

Begrudgingly endeared at finding himself being treated like a big boy, Tony reluctantly resurfaced and shook the woman’s hand. 

“My, what a good handshake.” Juana praised, smoothing the boy’s hair. “Who taught you such a thing?” 

“Papa did.” Tony informed her, still clinging tightly to Gibbs. 

“You have such a nice Papa, don’t you?” Juana hummed. 

“He’s the bestest.” Tony agreed, nodding against Gibbs’s chest. 

“Oh, I know he is.” Juana patronized. “Do you want to know why?” 

Having always been curious by nature, Tony couldn’t help but oblige his new nanny by asking for an answer. 

“Because,” Juana began, tickling him behind the ear, “Your Papa has said we can go to the park today.” 

Ordinarily one to enjoy his visits to the nearby park, Tony thoroughly shocked Gibbs with his response. 

“No!” He yelled, going pale. “No want to get losted.” 

“We won’t get lost.” Juana promised. “Your father left me directions.” 

“But…But mean doggy down street.” 

Refusing to be bested, Juana pulled a whistle free from her purse. 

“I have a dog whistle.” 

“But no Papa.” Tony countered, breaking Gibbs’s heart. 

Had it not been for the fact that his cell-phone was currently out of reach, he most surely would have called in sick to work. 

“I already promised to call you on my lunch break.” He reminded the boy, not knowing what else he could do. 

“And he also promised that I could give you some ice cream after your nap – if you behave, that is.” 

Never too distraught for the promise of ice cream, Tony all but jumped off Gibbs’s lap. 

“I be good!” The boy chattered, tears suddenly forgotten. “I always be good!” 

Too relieved at his boy’s sudden change in mood to be insulted over being put on the back burner for ice cream, Gibbs grunted and stood to stretch. 

“Why don’t you show Juana around, Monkey.” He suggested, needing time to change his shirt. 

Proud of his big boy job, ignorant of the fact that his nanny had already been showed around, Tony nodded and took her hand. 

“I show you around.” He declared. “But no basement. We no go in there – ever.” 

“That’s right, Kiddo.” Gibbs agreed. “I’ve got dangerous things lying about.” 

And with that, Gibbs left the duo to their tour while he hushed upstairs to swap his shirt out for one more presentable and far less wet. 

Much to his great relief, he found a considerably happier boy in the living room, his smile genuine (if not wobbly) as he proudly showed his nanny all the toys belonging to him. 

So much a fool was Gibbs, he immediately took such as a sign that he would be able to leave unmolested. 

“Come hug your Papa goodbye.” He requested, throwing wide his arms. “I gotta get going.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting hungry for reviews!

Been forced to simply leave his child to wail, Juana assuring him such a thing was a perfectly acceptable thing to do, Gibbs was not at all a happy camper as he muddled through his work-day. God help him, so anguished and guilt-ridden was he, even Abby found herself on the receiving end of his wrath – albeit a much tamer version of such, as the forensics expert still did seem a bit peaky from her inadvertent food mishap. But it wasn’t until the usually-jovial Ducky saw fit to intervene, did Gibbs cease his tirade and lesson his growls. 

“Good Lord, Jethro.” The Medical Examiner scolded. “You left your child at home with a qualified nanny – not in a war zone.” 

“I –”

“Jimmy himself wasn’t even this nervous leaving Victoria in daycare.” 

Fully aware that his boss was in a foul mood, Jimmy paled as his name came up and all but ran from the morgue – using the flimsy pretext of needing a bit of insulin to escape without censure. 

“I’m not nervous.” Gibbs snapped, inwardly cringing as he realized just how similar to Tony he sounded. “I’m concerned.” 

And considering the data and statistics behind child-abuse at the hands of caregivers, Gibbs had every right to be. 

“While that is a perfectly acceptable response to leaving one’s child home with a new caregiver for the first time, your behavior most certainly is not.” 

Far from appreciative of the fact that he was being spoken to as if he were a child, Gibbs scowled at his oldest friend and prepared to inform of such. But Ducky being Ducky, of course, beat him to the punch.

“Now, don’t you even try to deny it.” The Medical Examiner dismissed, casually cutting open a bloated cadaver. “Had Tony behaved in the same way as you are now, I am certain he would have faced repercussions.” 

“Are you saying you’d like to put me in time-out?” Gibbs growled, finding the notion anything but amusing. 

“I won’t say that such a thought wasn’t tempting.” Ducky smirked, setting aside his dirtied scalpel to look at him. “But I dare say a brief…interlude…to your office would be just as sufficient and helpful.” 

“And is that a suggestion or a threat?” Gibbs queried, not liking the expression on his friend’s face. 

“Can it not be both?” 

Far too exhausted to argue any further with the audacious man, and having already planned to head back to his office, Gibbs simply glowered. 

“You forget yourself.” 

Gibbs had nearly made it to the exit, his hand on the doorknob, when his friend made reply. 

“I wouldn’t very much be myself if I didn’t.” 

Angry at his unearned chastisement, Gibbs all but stomped through the bullpen on his way to the refuge of his office. For once not halted by any insipid questions/requests, as his agents were far too smart to do so today, he made it through his door in what was surely record time. Taking the time only to look his door, to stave off anyone who decided to be suddenly bold, Gibbs then pulled out his cell-phone and dialed the house-phone. 

“Hello, Gibbs.” Juana chirped into the phone. “How’s work?” 

“Fine.” He grunted. “Just fine. Put Tony on.” 

There was a brief silence on the other line, the duration of which Gibbs spent imaging all the horrible misfortunes that might have befallen his child in his absence. 

“Is everything alright, Ms. Hernandez?” He demanded, after an entire minute had elapsed without a word. 

“Yes, yes.” The nanny readily assured. “It’s only that Tony is in time-out. Again.” 

Gibbs sat up straighter, already exasperated. 

“Again?” 

“This is his third one, actually.” Juana confessed. “But that’s to be expected.” 

Taking umbrage with the insinuation that his kid was ill-behaved, Gibbs couldn’t help but growl his reply. 

“My kid is not a brat.” 

“No, of course not!” Juana was quick to sooth. “I only meant that it’s natural for kids to test their boundaries with new caregivers.” 

Relieved to find that his child was not being incorrectly characterized, Gibbs grumbled a half-assed apology into the phone before moving on to more concerning manners. 

“What did he do to get in trouble with you?” 

“Well, the first time it was for a sass-mouth.” Juana tattled. “I just won’t tolerate that in any degree.” 

“I wouldn’t expect you to.” Gibbs agreed. “But what did he say?” 

“He told me that he didn’t like me,” Juana huffed, “And that he hoped the Brave Companions ate my face.” 

Though he was immensely grateful that the nanny didn’t seem to really understand just how…rude that statement had been, Gibbs still sighed with disappointment. 

“And the second time?” 

“That one was for insubordination. He refused my repeated demands to get off the kitchen counter.” 

Knowing the boy to have displayed the same unacceptable behavior whilst in the care of Abby, Gibbs’s disappointment doubled. 

“And the latest time-out, what was that for?” 

“He threw a piece of bacon at me.” 

It was at that confession, that Gibb’s resolve to go lenient of his boy dissolved. For as much as he was committed to spoiling his boy, which was quite a lot, there were certain lines he expected his son never to cross. 

“Put him on the phone, I need to have words with him.” 

“One moment.” 

There was yet another pause, this one even longer, as Juana had to all but coax a wailing Tony into accepting the phone. 

“Papa?” Tony sniffled, choking on his sobs. “When you coming home?” 

“Anthony Angelo,” Gibbs scolded, “I hardly think you want me to get home any earlier than I plan to.” 

Though he surely did not understand such a long sentence, his boy clearly did not fail to grasp the severe tone. 

“Papa-“ 

“Oh no.” Gibbs forbade. “Don’t try and wheedle your way out this young man. You are absolutely in big trouble when I get home.”


	34. Chapter 34

Having finally gotten his clingy child down for bed an hour ago, a full half-hour later than he would have liked, Gibbs collapsed unseeingly unto his bed and dialed his father’s phone – hoping all the while that said man wouldn’t be too cross with him for interrupting his current binge of The Sopranos. 

“This better be good, Leeroy.” His father warned. “Christopher just got checked into rehab.” 

“Who the hell is Christopher?” Gibbs demanded, struggling to put a face to the name. 

Gibbs could almost hear the blush rise to his father’s cheek. 

“You’ve been watching your soaps again, haven’t you?” He teased. 

“I swear to God, Leeroy, if you let word of this get out I’ll tell your entire team you were afraid of the Tooth Fairy until fourth grade.” 

Now blushing himself, Gibbs scowled.

“You told me she would rip all my teeth out if I had any cavities.” 

“Which kept you from getting cavities.” Dad retorted, finally lowering the volume on his television. “Now what did you really call me for?” 

Finally given the invitation to get to the crux of the problem, Gibbs readily divulged to his father all the mischief Tony had gotten up to that week. 

“I just don’t know what to do, Dad.” He finished with a sigh. “Kelly was never this difficult.” 

“That’s because she was a girl, Son.” His father chuckled. “Boys start out naughty and then they get nicer. With girls now, well, it’s the opposite.”

“I don’t know if that’s strictly true, Dad.” Gibbs argued, insulted at the insinuation. 

“Well, there are exceptions to every rule.” His father laughed. “You…you were naughty all the way up until you joined the Marines.” 

“I was not…naughty.” 

“You stole my rifle in first-grade, Tiger.” Dad retorted. 

"That was one time-"

And, to be quite fair, the older boys had double-dog-dared him to. 

“You stole my pistol in third and fifth grade.” His father continued. “And the year after that you started taking my truck for joyrides.” 

“…I wasn’t that bad in high-school.” 

“Only because you were worse.” 

While Gibbs could hardly argue with the truth, he did scowl. 

“You really need to get over the whole house-party thing.” He advised. “It’s not like I didn’t replace those windows.” 

“One of your dumbass friends shat in my bed.” Dad growled, his anger still fresh even after all those years. 

“You said I could have a party.” Gibbs reminded him. 

“I said you could have some friends over for your birthday.” Dad argued. “Not the entire high-school.” 

In Gibbs’s defense, the entire high-school only consisted of 150 students. 

“How the hell did you and Mom and ever survive me?” 

“Sheer parental love, Tiger. That shit is powerful.” 

“I wish I could believe you.” Gibbs sighed. 

“You should.” Dad insisted, sounding offended. “When have I ever lied to you?” 

Realizing he now had the opportunity to turn the tables on his father, Gibbs smirked and moved to do just that. 

“You told me that if I ever touched the thermostat, my hands would disintegrate.” 

“That was one lie-“ 

“You told me that pears were just apples from outer space.” 

An unfortunate lie that Gibbs had believed all the way up into third grade. 

“Only because you refused to eat the goddamn things.” 

“Yeah, well you also told me carrots were just orange celery.” 

“Yeah, well, in my defense, you believed it.” 

Gibbs blushed, the memory of him getting punched in the gut for arguing with a fifth-grader over such a ‘fact’ still quite fresh. 

“…Do you think if I told Tony would start behaving if I told him I had a direct line to Santa?” 

While it was still summer, Gibbs believed the threat of Santa could still be effectively wielded. 

“That hogwash didn’t’ work on you, Leeroy.” 

“Then what do I do?” Gibbs demanded, rubbing his temples. 

“Wait it out.” His father said simply, the sounds of a beer can opening coming from his end of the line. 

“I don’t have that kind of patience.” 

“You have a kid now – you’d better find some.” 

When Gibbs just growled into his phone, his Dad sighed. 

“Look, Tiger, why don’t I come down a bit early?” He offered. “I could help you both ease into a new routine.” 

Although he wanted nothing more than to accept such a lucrative offer, he didn’t feel at all comfortable taking advantage of his father in such a way. 

“I don’t want to inconvenience-“ 

“Shut the hell up, Leeroy.” His dad mildly rebuked. “I’ll be up sometime next week.”


	35. Chapter 35

Thursday morning came far too early with Tony, bringing with itself both rain and the unpleasant realization that Juana was here to stay. For not only had his Papa quite stubbornly refused to accept his very reasonably demands that she be sent away to The Wall, so too had he actively reprimanded Tony for all the protests he had thrown in the attempt to get her to leave on her own accord – the likes of which had included locking her outside in triple-digit weather as well as hiding out in the basement from her for a grand total of two hours. 

Bristling only slightly at the memory of his beloved toy truck being taken away for the latest infraction, something that he had wept bitterly over to a sympathetic Abby and Tim, Tony frowned and all but stomped his way over to the kitchen sink. 

“That’s quite enough of that.” Papa scolded from the kitchen table.

Though Tony had already inwardly resolved to behave himself for the day, his Papa’s insinuation that he was tantruming before Juana even had a chance to get there was devastating. But rather than convey that to Papa, and run the risk of being accused of backtalk, he opted (instead) to wrap the frowning man in a hug. 

“I sorry.” He avowed, wriggling unto his Papa’s lap in one well-practiced move. “No more naughty.” 

Setting aside the sports section of the newspaper, Papa kissed his forehead and ruffled his uncombed hair. 

“It will make me very happy if I come home and hear you were good.” 

Knowing that such was the absolute truth, Tony nodded to show he understood. 

“No more naughty.” He parroted, wishing papa to understand just how serious he was. 

And truth be told, Tony had never been more serious about something in all his life. For not only did he fervently wish to regain access to his favorite truck, having been without it for most of the long week, he more importantly wished for Papa to stop coming home from work already disappointed in him. Because absolutely nothing hurt him more than that. 

“I’m glad to hear that, Monkey.” Papa grinned, squeezing him tightly. “I’ve been missing my well-behaved boy.” 

Reflecting on all the naughty things he had done in the past week, Tony frowned, the guilt building up in his tummy not at all agreeable to the sugary cereal had just wolfed down. 

“I good now.” Tony promised, sticking a thumb in his mouth. 

“You’re always good.” Papa corrected, removing his finger. “You’re not always very well-behaved.” 

And with that, his Papa gently wriggled his favorite Batman pacifier into his mouth.

“You founded it!” Tony cried, removing the black object for only as much time as it took to speak. 

Immensely grateful, as it had already been lost for three whole days, Tony hugged his Papa tightly about the neck. 

“I found it on top of the fridge.” Papa explained, gently freeing himself. 

Before Tony could properly thank him via words, much less explain to Papa that Juana had been the one to hide the majority of his pacifiers, the kitchen-door swung open and revealed the woman herself. 

“Good morning.” She drawled, throwing her purse on the counter. 

“Morning.” Papa grunted, glancing at his watch. 

“I’m sorry to be so early.” Juana apologized. “But I wasn’t held up by traffic like I usually am.” 

Upset at the thought of his Papa leaving him earlier than usual, Tony opened up his mouth to suggest that she go and drive around the block a few times. But one look at Papa’s face, so unstressed for one, had him closing it again. 

“No train?” Tony asked, instead, spitting out his pacifier. 

“No train today.” Juana confirmed, awarding him a small smile. 

“I see train with Papa last night.” Tony expanded. 

Inexplicably out of both milk and beer, Papa had loaded him up in the truck way past his bedtime and booked it towards the nearest gas station. Only on the way there, the longest train in the world had blocked them off from arriving at the store in time. It was with a small giggle that Tony recalled all the angry words Papa had used to describe the train, several of them big-kid words that he (himself) was certainly not allowed to use. 

“Do you like the trains, Tony?” Juana questioned.

“Uh-huh.” He mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. 

Gently pulling his fingers away, Papa kissed his cheek and tapped him on the thigh. Recognizing the signal, which they had established long ago, Tony frowned and stood up – allowing his Papa to do the same without any significant effort. 

“This one might need an earlier nap today.” Papa informed Juana. “The thunder kept him awake all night.” 

Frowning at the memory of the scary thunder, Tony once more wrapped his arms about his Papa. 

“It’s alright, Tony.” Papa chuckled. “The weatherman says there won’t be any thunder today.” 

Though he was vastly relieved, Tony still clung to his Papa, entirely unwilling to let the man escape from him so early. 

“I know you don’t want me to leave early,” Papa smiled, seeing through Tony’s ruse frustratingly easy, “But I won’t have time to pick up doughnuts for the team if I don’t.” 

Putting his regard for Abby above his own desires, Tony reluctantly released his Papa. 

“Abby want sprinkles.” He reminded him. “And Tim want banana bread.” 

“And what does Tony want?” Papa coaxed, setting his coffee cup in the sink. “I’ll bring you back something.” 

“Purple cupcake, please.” 

“And if they’re out of purple?” Papa questioned. 

“Lellow.”


	36. Chapter 36

Although it was only noon, Tony’s resolved to behave was rapidly being diminished by an overly-bossy Juana. For not only had he been forced to mop up the milk he had spilled all by himself, something Papa would have at least helped him with, so too had his perpetually crabby nanny persisted in making him wash up all the lunch dishes. And while that, in itself, wasn’t so bad, the fact that she was now insisting he sweep up the living room certainly was. 

“I can’t.” He insisted for the fourth time, hot tears stinging his eyes. “Too hard.” 

And it was no mere exaggeration either, for he had once tried to help Abby and Tim out by sweeping their kitchen – only to fail miserably in the attempt and dissolve into frustrated tears as his lack of dexterity prevented him from doing anything other than making more of a mess. 

“Nonsense.” Juana dismissed, looking away from her dusting. “I was sweeping floors before I could even talk.” 

“But…I little.” Tony argued, swiping angrily at the tears as they fell. 

Setting aside her dusting rag, Juana gave him a look that brooked no argument. 

“You can finish the sweeping now or you can finish it after a time-out and a nap.” 

Desperately holding onto his resolve to be a goody boy, Tony resisted the urge to launch the broom at her head. 

“I…I take nap now? I sleepy.” 

“You can do I say.” Juana dismissed. “And finish sweeping the floor.” 

Sensing that he was now soundly defeated, Tony sniffled and grabbed the red broom before heading to stand in the middle of the kitchen. 

“What are you doing?!” Juana barked, brandishing her rag at him. 

“Sweeping.” Tony snapped, stomping his foot. 

Pursing her lips at the attitude, Juana raised a warning hand his direction. 

“Don’t you get all sassy with me, young man.” The impatient nanny warned. “Or you’ll find yourself in a time-out after your nap as well.” 

Not liking the idea of two time-outs with only a nap between them, Tony bit down on his tongue and made to sweep up a fallen frosted flake. 

“No, no, no.” Juana sighed, seizing the broom from his hand. “You don’t start sweeping in the middle of the room! You start at one side and work your way over!” 

And with that, she roughly thrust the cleaning instrument back into his hands. 

Knowing now what was expected of him, Tony shuffled toward the wall holding the kitchen door – only to halted once more by Juana stepping in front of him.

“Start on the other side of the room, Tony.” She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “How else will you sweep the dirt outside?”


	37. Chapter 37

Much to Gibbs’s great relief, his father’s time-tested prediction that Tony’s proclivity for bad behavior might soon are itself out proved true well before the full week had even had time to elapse. In fact, so proud and relieved was he for the sudden change in his young agent’s heart, both Thursday and Friday having gone by with nary a phone call from Juana, that Gibbs decided to take Tony out that Saturday morning for a look at fishing poles. 

“What do you think, Monkey?” Gibbs asked, leading his boy into the fishing aisle. 

“Lots of poles.” Tony breathed, going wide-eyed at the selection. 

Given that there were quite literally half-a-hundred poles being displayed, such a statement was more of an under-exaggeration than anything else. 

“Well, you’d better start looking then.” He advised the boy. “Otherwise we’ll be here all morning and miss brunch with Abby.” 

Alarmed at the very thought of missing out on time with his best friend, Tony immediately set to work perusing the aisles. Somber-faced, and yet with a great bounce in his step, the boy labored – stopping every two feet to poke and prod at a particularly shiny or colorful specimen. Smiling fondly at the sight, Gibbs let his child work without exerting any influence whatsoever, himself more than happy to paw through a few displays of lures and sinkers. 

“Papa!” Tony suddenly called out, much louder than strictly necessary. “What about this one?” 

Having become inadvertently engrossed in picking out a dozen suitable lures, Gibbs had all but failed to notice his little boy’s foray into the women’s section. The result of such failure being, of course, Tony’s unmanly choosing of a bubblegum pink fishing rod. 

“Do you like it?” The boy demanded, waggling the rod about when Gibbs failed to promptly answer. 

“I…do.” Gibbs humored. “But that kind of rod was meant for a girl.” 

Puzzled, Tony frowned and gave his fishing rod a quick once-over. 

“Why?” He questioned, completely nonplussed. 

“Well, it’s pink.” Gibbs kindly pointed out, hoping to make quick work of the discussion. 

“I know is pink.” Tony frowned, still thoroughly confused. “Looks like Kate’s shirt!” 

Not knowing what his father would say if he were to learn Tony was planning on using a pink fishing rod, Gibbs frowned and tried once more to help his boy see reason. 

“Because pink is a girl color.” 

Gibbs didn’t need to see Tony’s frown to know that his argument was a weak one. 

“Pink is for boys, too.” His boy insisted, sounding indignant. “I wear pink and Tim does, too.” 

Seeing that the conversation was going nowhere useful, Gibbs tried a different tactic. 

“Wouldn’t you rather have a black fishing rod?” He coaxed. “It would be like something Batman would use.” 

“Batman doesn’t go fishing.” Tony said decisively. 

“You’re telling me that Batman has all those kids running about his manor and he’s never once taken them fishing?” Gibbs challenged. 

“Nope.” Tony declared. “He only takes them on the Bat-sub.” 

Sensing that all attempts to get his boy to pick a more sensible rod were doomed to fail, Gibbs sighed and gave in. 

“Fuck it. Let’s get you a pink rod.” 

Far too excited about the purchase of his first-ever fishing rod, Tony didn’t even bother to scold him for the usage of such a vulgar swear word. 

“Can I carry it!?” Tony pestered, bouncing on his toes. 

“All big boys carry their own rods.” Gibbs answered. “Just try not to poke out anyone’s eye with it.” 

Nodding his consent, Tony fell into step beside him with a giant grin on his face, his eyes as wide as saucers as he stared at the rod in his hand. 

“Papa?” 

“Yes?” Gibbs asked, uneasy at the leading tone of the question. 

“How come I not supposed to like pink?” 

Not wanting to have such a discussion in front of a cashier, Gibbs stopped and pulled Tony aside into an empty aisle. 

“Well…a lot of people my age think that boys shouldn’t like pink.” 

“But why?” Tony pestered, truly confused. 

Knowing full-well his child would not stop pestering him until the question was answered to his satisfaction, Gibbs forced himself to give the unsavory answer. 

“Because…they’re idiots and they think it means a boy is…is…well…gay.” 

“What’s that?” Wondered, frowning in confusion. 

Blushing at the question, as he was almost certain their conversation was being listed on by some giggling girls, Gibbs all but whispered his answer. 

“You know how Tim and Abby are dating?” 

“Uh-huh!” 

“Well, being gay would be like if Tim dated another boy.” 

Having expected some sort of surprise from Tony, Gibbs was utterly thrown off track when the boy just calmly nodded his head. 

“Like Ducky!” 

Feeling his blood run cold at the announcement, as only he and Jimmy were supposed to know such a thing, Gibbs leveled his child with a stern expression. 

“Where…where did you hear such a thing?” 

Clearly fearing he was in trouble, Tony stared at the tiles before answering. 

“I sawed Ducky kissing a man in the morgue last Christmas.” He confessed, his voice small. 

Relieved that there wasn’t anything nefarious about the way his boy had learned the secret, as well as proud of “big” Tony for keeping it secret, Gibbs smiled and patted the boy’s head. 

“It was good of you to keep that secret, Monkey.” He praised. “Ducky doesn’t want everyone knowing.” 

“Why?” Tony demanded. “Abby not keep Tim a secret.” 

Gibbs couldn’t help but smile at the understatement. 

“Because people are assholes, Tony, and they don’t like that sort of thing.”


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can someone tell me how I can italicize?

How you holding up, Abs?” Tim questioned, glancing away from the road for a split second to stare at his girlfriend.

“About as well as anyone could expect.” She grimaced, looking notably green. 

Frowning at the unsatisfactory update, Tim slowed down his car even further, hoping against hope that such a slow pace would serve to settle her upset stomach. 

“I don’t know why they call it morning sickness.” He groused, expertly steering around a large pothole. “You haven’t done any of your puking in the morning.” 

In all truthfulness, that particular bit of ‘fun’ only came about during the evening hours. 

“Can we maybe not talk about vomiting right now?” Abby pleaded, rubbing her still flat stomach. “I’m still kind of nauseous.” 

Tim couldn’t help but grimace at the confession, the foul stench of aged vomit still clinging to the backseat despite his numerous visits to a car-detailer. 

“Are you sure you still want to meet the team for supper?” Tim pressed. “We can always call off.” 

After all, they were only going to a chain restaurant. 

“We can’t.” His girlfriend insisted, closing her red-rimmed eyes. “The rest of the team will be suspicious if we do.” 

“I’m pretty sure Ducky and Jimmy are already suspicious.” Tim countered. 

“Those two are far too smart for their own good.” Abby sighed. “But at least they know how to keep a secret.” 

“Thank the Lord for that.” Time agreed. “I don’t even want to think of what Gibbs will do to me if he finds out you’re pregnant.” 

Though he tried not to dwell long on such things, everything from decapitation to gelding crossed his mind. 

“It won’t be any worse than what your parents will do to you when they find out.” Abby teased, managing a small smile. “I mean, your mom is literally going to lose her mind when she finds out you knocked-up a Catholic girl.” 

“Can we not refer to your pregnancy that way?” Tim fussed, cringing at the vulgarity of such a term. 

“What would you rather we call it?” His girlfriend humored, eyes still closed. 

“…Inseminated?” Tim offered, before he could stop himself. 

Much to her credit, Abby didn’t laugh out loud. 

“I don’t think your mother will like that term any better, Tim.” She cautioned. “In fact, I think that one might get you slapped.” 

Knowing full-well that such an assault on his person was very likely, Tim shook his head in dismay. 

“You know, we could just not tell my parents about the baby. Ever.” 

“And just let them go on living without knowing they have a grandchild?” Abby questioned, a small frown playing at the corners of her lips. 

“Exactly!” Tim readily agreed. “We’ll just tell Sarah – she’s great at keeping secrets, too.” 

“With your parents being the way that they are, that really doesn’t surprise me.” Abby observed. 

Though his girlfriend was clearly trying to be diplomatic about such a thing, he knew she thought his parents to be more than just a little domineering. 

“As long as we’re keeping secrets from them, we probably shouldn’t tell them about the wedding either.” 

Abby actually giggled at the idea, her blue eyes twinkling merrily as she finally opened them. 

“You know, your father might just an aneurism when he learns we’re planning to get married on Halloween.” 

“My grandmother might literally die.” Tim suggested. “And she hasn’t even put me back into the will yet.” 

Possessor of a small fortune, and yet only four grandchildren, the possibility was far from being a welcome one. 

“What did you even do in the first place to get booted from the will?” Abby wondered aloud. “Did you whistle on the Sabbath?” 

“Sarah scribbled all over her painting of The Last Supper when she was a just a toddler - and I took the blame for it.” 

And even though such bravery had earned him a sound switching, he wouldn’t have acted in any other way. He was a good big brother, after all, and sworn to protect his little sister from all that might harm her. The fact that was nearly thirteen years her senior only solidified such a sense of duty within him. 

“You’re such a good guy, Tim.” Abby gushed, hugging his arm. “And I promise you that Sarah can come to live with us just as soon as she’s eighteen.” 

As such an event was only eight months away, Tim couldn’t help but feel excited. 

“Sarah will just love that.” He beamed. “And she’ll be more than just a little happy to help you out with the baby.” 

“Sounds great.” Abby agreed, glancing at the dash. “But speaking of babies, we had better hurry up and fetch Tony.”

“But I don’t want to upset your stomach by speeding.” Tim argued. 

Not only did he not wish to see his girlfriend in any sort of discomfort, so too did he not wish for the front seat of his car to be coated in vomit. 

“Gibbs is already angry with you for spilling his coffee – we do not want to be late to supper.” Abby cautioned.

“But, you stomach-“ 

“Babe, I could be lying down and still be queasy.” Abby interrupted. “Get going.”


	39. Chapter 39

Though he had tried to make up for lost time by going five miles over the speed limit, Gibbs’s promised wrath having been the motivating factor behind his spurning of the law, Tim still arrived at his boss’s house fifteen minutes late than he had originally hoped to. 

Subsequently fearing the intensity of the ass-reaming he was now sure to receive from his impatient boss, as well as wishing to mitigate the extent of such in any way possible, Tim all but leaped from his car the very moment he had the vehicle in park – all but leaving Abby behind to fumble with her seatbelt as he sprinted to the front door and rang the doorbell twice. 

“I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you move that fast.” Abby remarked, sounding slightly out-of-breath as she finally ambled up the steps after him. 

Though he regretted the fact that his actions had prompted fatigue in his girlfriend, he most certainly did not regret the actions himself. 

“If we don’t get to the restaurant by seven, Gibbs is literally going to murder me.” He reminded the pregnant woman. 

“Would you relax? As long as you’re dating me, you’re perfectly safe.” Abby summarily dismissed, leaning up against him. “From murder, at least.” 

Good-naturedly rolling his eyes at her, Tim pressed a kiss to her brow and rang the doorbell once more. 

“Well, being gelded doesn’t sound so pleasant either.” He heatlessly retorted, inwardly cringing at the very thought. 

Thus said, he rang the doorbell twice more – far too impatient to be spared his boss’s wrath to really consider the impoliteness of such an action. 

“Do you honestly think that I’d let the Bossman interfere with one of my favorite parts of you?” Abby queried, slapping his hand away from the bell. 

“Wait – one of your favorite parts?” Tim grinned, momentarily distracted. “What are your other favorite parts?” 

Casting him a naughty smile, one that made his knees go week, Abby stepped closer and put her mouth to his ear. 

“Well,” She breathed, “I am particularly fond of your – “

Much to Tim’s great anguish, his girlfriend was cut preemptively short by the front door finally swinging open to reveal a very red-faced Tony. 

“Abby!” The toddler cried, flinging himself into her arms. 

“Tony!” Abby beamed, squeezing him tightly.

Though he hated to play he part of a kill-joy, Tim knew full-well that Tony wasn’t supposed to be opening the door himself. 

“Where’s Juana?” Tim questioned, peering into the empty living room. 

“She in the potty.” Tony explained, looking mildly guilty. “But I sawed it was you through the window!” 

Seeing as how the toddler hadn’t really been opening the door to an unnamed stranger, Tim decided to let that particular but of naughtiness go. And were Gibbs there, as well, he was almost confident the man would have been just as lenient. 

“Anthony!” Juana called out from somewhere in the house. “Where did you run off to?”

Face paling considerably, Tony cringed and flew into Tim’s arms, quickly burying his face in his neck. Concerned at the sudden change in the boy’s naturally sunny temperament, he protectively wrapped his arms around him and looked to Abby for direction. 

“I’ll go and tell the nanny we’re here.” Abby decided. “You go and get Tony into the car.” 

Nodding his consent to the idea, Tim gently pulled away from Tony and grabbed his hand. 

“Where we going?” Tony questioned, grasping Tim’s hand quite tightly. 

“We’re going out to eat with the team.” Tim explained, leading the boy toward the parked car. 

“Me too?” 

“I don’t think your Papa would want you left behind.” Tim answered with a smile, carefully navigating the both of them around a handful of chalk. 

Much to Tim’s great surprise, Tony didn’t make another peep until they got they reached the car. 

“I really get to go, too?” 

“Of course, you do.” Tim readily agreed. “Why wouldn’t you get to go?” 

Blushing guiltily, Tony looked down at his shoes. 

“Because Juana mad at me.” He confessed, frowning heavily. 

“Why would Juana be mad at you?” Tim queried. 

While Tim knew that Gibbs had once received numerous calls from the beleaguered nanny about his child’s misbehavior, he also knew it had been a full two days since any such reports had been made. 

“Cause…I goed potty on the floor.” Tony admitted, coloring deeply as tears flooded into his eyes. 

“On the floor?” Tim frowned. “Why weren’t you wearing a diaper?” 

“Juana taked it off so I would use the potty. But I forgotted to.” 

Seeing as how Tony was far from potty-trained, such a tactic seemed more cruel than it did it beneficial. 

“Don’t cry, Tony.” Tim soothed, ruffling the boy’s hair. “I know you didn’t mean to.” 

“I know.” Tony sniffled, tears leaking down his cheek. “Was accident. But…Juana still mad.” 

While Tim’s gut churned at the insinuation behind the words, his heart all but sank as he watched the toddler rub at his backside. 

“Maybe she was just having a bad day.” Tim suggested, doubting the words. 

Looking relieved at the easy out, Tony nodded his head vigorously. 

“Why don’t we get in the car, hm?” Tim suggested. “You can have the front seat. I’ll even let you pick the radio station.”


	40. Chapter 40

“Aren’t you the one who always gives me crap for being on my phone all the time?” Kate demanded, her tone of a disbelieving nature as Ducky once more pulled out his phone.

“Never you mind my phone usage.” The Medical Examiner dismissed, bending over his phone so nobody could read the screen. “What I am doing is highly important.” 

For the first time since he had returned from that hellish vacation the Director had forced him to take, as well as chaperone, Gibbs felt truly relaxed. Willingly surrounded by the entirety of his team, where for once nobody was engaged in a bickering match or pranking war, he was even able to crack a smile every now and then – particularly after a few beers and specifically once the light-natured teasing became bolder.

“What could be more important than food?” Gibbs questioned, pausing in between bites of his still-bloody steak. 

“Oh, leave him be.” Abby chided, gingerly sipping her Ginger Ale. “For all we know, it could be work-related.” 

“With the way the Director is being lately, I doubt it.” Kate mumbled. 

As the Director seemed to be on a mission to find fault in absolutely everything everybody on the team did, Gibbs couldn’t help but agree with the affronted brunette. 

“Yes,” Ziva drawled, setting aside her empty wineglass, “She has been a real zonna lately.” 

“Ziva!” Kate scolded, glancing at Tony. “Watch your language.” 

“But it is true.” The Israeli sniffed. “Somebody must have pissed her off.” 

“Ziva!” Gibbs barked, looking pointedly at Tony. 

As the boy had already developed the annoying proclivity for parroting back whatever he heard, at the most inappropriate times, Gibbs did not wish for his swearing vocabulary to be expanded upon. 

“Her first word was naughtier.” Tony tattled, pointing at the offender with a soggy French Fry. 

“Don’t be a tell-tattler.” Ziva scolded the boy, snatching the fry from his hand. 

Though the tipsy brunette had clearly been behaving playfully, Tim strangely decided to take her actions personally. 

“Leave him alone, Ziva.” Tim scowled. “He’s just a kid.” 

“Has the Director rubbed unto you, too?” Ziva muttered, glaring openly at him. 

“I’m just saying, you don’t need to be so rough on him.” Tim groused, jabbing angrily at his salad. 

By now more concerned than angry with the aspiring writer, Gibbs frowned and vowed to speak to the man before the outing came to an end. 

“Ignore Tim.” Kate counseled her friend. “He’s just hangry because he hasn’t had any real food in months.” 

“What is hangry?” Ziva demanded. 

“It’s when you get angry from being so hungry.” Jimmy explained. 

Instantly concerned for his friend’s well-being, Tony quickly offered Tim a fry from his plate. 

“Thanks Buddy.” Tim humored, accepting the fry. “Now finish your peas.” 

 

Not liking the thought of being prompted to finish one of the few foods he didn’t outright enjoy, the toddler looked to Gibbs for reprieve. 

“You heard the man, finish your peas.” He coaxed. 

Though he was hardly in a mood to fight the boy on the matter if he persisted in ignoring the vegetable, Abby chose to intervene on her friend’s behalf by scooping the green circles unto her own formerly pea-less plate. 

“Spoiled.” Gibbs muttered. “Spoiled rotten - the boy of you.”

“Ah, but whose fault is that, Jethro? Ducky quipped, finally tucking his phone away. 

A bit too tipsy to form a reasonable retort, at least for the moment, Gibbs got to his feet. 

“I’ll deal with you when I get back.” He promised the Medical Examiner. 

“Where’re you going?” Abby questioned, looking concerned. 

“The bathroom.” Gibbs sighed. “I won’t bore you with the details.” 

Leaving Abby to bask in her embarrassment, Gibbs then strolled off toward the bathrooms, leaving Tony in the care of one distracted Medical Examiner. 

“Wait up, Boss.” Tim called, hurrying up to him. 

Figuring his girlfriend had sent him, as said woman had earlier accused him of being tipsy, Gibbs scowled. 

“I don’t need help in the bathroom, McGee.” He growled. 

“I need to speak to you.” Was all the man said.


	41. Chapter 41

Though the dirty bathroom of a chain restaurant wasn’t exactly his favored spot for conversation, especially those of which he assumed were to be of a serious nature, Gibbs readily pushed aside such reservations when he saw the uncharacteristically severe expression on McGee’s normally jovial face. Fearing the worst, that being an unintended pregnancy or a secret elopement, the likes of which his heart just wouldn’t be able to handle, Gibbs decided to splash some sobering water unto his face before addressing the troubled young man. 

“Are you finally going to tell me what’s been eating at you all night?” 

“That’s the whole reason I followed you in here.” Tim frowned, shoulders despondently sagged. 

Although he wanted nothing more than to keep the brilliant alcohol-related buzz he had going on at the moment, the beers had consumed being far from cheap despite their poor quality, he nonetheless braced himself for the impact of bad news. 

“Alright, then, lay it one me.” Gibbs requested, already feeling his blood pressure rising. 

“Before I do, you have to promise me not to do anything stupid.” Tim stipulated, looking more than just a little nervous. 

By now almost certain that Tim had gotten Abby knocked-up, Gibbs took a steadying breath and put placed his hands behind his back – hoping that the action would severely hinder his ability to punch the literary-enthusiast in the face. 

“I promise not to do anything that you would view as stupid.” Gibbs evaded, unwilling to lock himself into such unreasonable terms. 

Fortunately for him, Tim seemed utterly unaware of such an underhanded manipulation to his earlier stipulation. 

“Alright,” The young man breathed, pulling out his cellphone, “I’m going to show you a picture.” 

Fearing for the man’s safety if the picture happened to be an ultrasound, Gibbs prudently kept his hands safely behind his back, the cautionary action in question making it all but necessary for Tim to hold the screen up to his face. 

“What the hell am I looking at?” Gibbs demanded, when after three seconds he still could not decipher the unfamiliar image. 

Blurry as all hell, as well as slightly off-centered, the poorly-captured photo almost looked as if it were – 

“McGee!” Gibbs barked, terrorizing a little boy as he came out one of the stalls, “Why the hell do you have a picture of my kid’s ass on your phone?!” 

Though he didn’t think his agent would be using the picture for anything even remotely sexual, the mere thought of him using it as prank material pissed him off just as much. Wisely sensing such, Tim held his hands and backed away. 

“Because there was a mark on it.” McGee breathed. “Look.” 

Arm already half-raised in preparation of punching the errant agent in the arm, or perhaps the face, Gibbs nearly stumbled as he clumsily pulled it back in an act of leniency. 

“A mark?” He frowned, not willing to believe such a thing. “Do you mean his birthmark?”

Even as he said it, Gibbs knew it was not the truth. For the mark he spoke of was as small and pink as the head of an eraser, and not at all anywhere near to the size and vibrancy of the splotch of color he had seen on the photograph. He needed only to accept the phone from Tim’s trembling hand, as well as glance at the picture, to assure himself of such. 

“When…When was this taken?” He demanded, not knowing what else could be said. 

 

As Gibbs had changed his boy just that morning, he knew full-well that there had been no such marks on his body then. 

“It was before we set off for the restaurant.” Tim explained, his frown heavy. “Tony kept rubbing his backside and crying that Juana was mad at him. So, I investigated.” 

“I never even got a phone call from her to complain.” Gibbs babbled, still unable to make sense of the situation. “Why…Did he tell you why she was mad at him?” 

“Evidently she’s been trying to potty train him.” Tim scowled. “But it didn’t go so well today and he peed on the floor.” 

Having long ago resigned himself to the fact that Tony just wasn’t prepared for such an accomplishment, at least not anytime soon, Gibbs felt his blood boil at the news. 

“Why would she do that?!” He barked. “Tony’s far too little for that!”

“Well, apparently your nanny didn’t think so.” Tim retorted, clearly upset at the anger being misdirected his way. 

Absolutely enraged himself, perhaps even homicidal, Gibbs did the only thing he could think to do – that being set off in the pursuit of avenging his wronged son via unspecified violence. But before he could so much as find the words to convey such to McGee, much less storm out of the bathroom, the agent-in-question intervened and blocked his exit. 

“Stop!” McGee demanded, resisting the attempts being made to remove him. “You need to calm down!” 

Far too angry at the mistreatment of his boy to find such words anything but incensing, Gibbs redoubled his efforts to move the younger agent. 

“Don’t make me punch you, McGee.” 

Though it was no idle threat, the aspiring-write held his ground – his gradual weight loss having clearly been accompanied by some strength-training as well. 

“You’re going to scare the hell out of Tony if come back to the table like this.” McGee reasoned, the words shaky but his expression resolute. “And what good will that do?” 

So incensed was Gibbs, it took nearly a full minute for him to realize the wisdom of such advice – and yet another minute for him to finally consider and accept it. 

“Fine!” He caved, backing away from Tim. “I’ll be calm.”

Or at least as calm as he could be, given the circumstances. 

“You won’t be.” Tim argued, easily seeing through his deception. “So let Abby and me take Tony back to our place for a few movies. That should give you more than enough time to deal with Juana.” 

Knowing that it would be best for Tony to be in the care of someone else while he on his revenge-quest, Gibbs reluctantly nodded his head in agreement – feeling rather defeated and guilty that he could not just whisk the boy home straightway and give him all the comfort and apologies he was sure to need. 

“Boss – “ McGee made to speak, reasonably mistaking his concern for wrath. 

“Why…why didn’t he tell Juana was hitting him?” 

Truth be told, that particular tidbit almost hurt worse than the actual knowledge his kid was being mistreated. 

“When I spoke to him, it sounded like he didn’t think a few swats were a big deal.” 

Though he knew McGee would never lie to him, especially not in order to comfort him, Gibbs still couldn’t help but feel the explanation was ingratiating. 

“I specifically told that woman she was to do nothing physical!” Gibbs defended, not wishing for anyone to believe he would allow such treatment. 

“I know, Boss, I know.” Tim genuinely assured. “But you really do need to calm down.”

“I can’t calm down.” Gibbs dismissed. “I’m going to kill her.” 

Or, at the very least, seriously injure her. 

“You’re not going to kill her.” Tim stipulated, still blocking the door. “But you will ruin her life.” He allowed. “That will have to be enough for now.” 

Not failing to see the particular way in which Abby had rubbed off the man, in particular where regarded his sudden frankness, Gibbs nearly smiled. 

“Could you possibly keep Tony all night?” 

Not knowing just how long, or intense, his avenging would be, Gibbs figured it best to play safe. 

“Sure.” Tim readily agreed. “Just so long as you agree to let Ducky see you home.” 

While he wasn’t opposed to the man’s presence, per se, Gibbs resented the fact that Tim clearly still didn’t trust him not to commit a full-fledged murder. 

“What am I going to do about my truck?” 

“Simple.” Tim smiled, unwilling to allow him an easy out. “When I bring Tony back to you in the morning, I can drop Abby off at the restaurant on the way. She’ll drive it back to your place, and I’ll drive her home.” 

“Fine.” Gibbs surrendered. “But I really am going to kill her.” 

“You won’t.” Tim easily dismissed. “Not if you have Ducky with you.” 

“Why the hell does everyone think I’m afraid of that man?” Gibbs demanded, not liking the insinuation at all. 

“We don’t think you’re afraid of him.” Tim argued. “We just know that you won’t put your hands on him.” 

Unable to refute such a truthful statement, and resentful because of it, Gibbs scowled openly at McGee. 

“I could still find a way to kill her.” 

Finally exhausted with such a remark, Tim shook his head and shrugged. 

“Better you than Abby if she ever found out.” 

“You didn’t tell your girlfriend about this?” Gibbs asked, incredulous. 

“If I had told her before we got here, she’d be sitting in jail right now.”


	42. Chapter 42

Ensconced in the relative safety of a magnificently crafted blanket fort, the likes of which Gibbs had spent two hours creating, he and his child sat as the thunder-storm raged outside and idled away the time by playing with the handful of rummage-sale Barbies Tony had inexplicably taken a great liking to. 

In particular, it was a curly-haired blonde he favored most, the specimen’s eyes as wide and green as the ones he had surely shared with his mother. 

As for Gibbs, he had randomly selected an unassuming brunette doll, her only notable characteristic a charred left foot that had surely come about at the hands of a cruel older brother. 

Not at all as invested in the feigned grocery-shopping adventure as was Tony, the latter using his doll to warble out nearly half-a-dozen phrases he had heard from Gibbs while accompanying him to the store in real-life, he simply moved his doll as requested and responded only when his child’s random narrative required him to. 

“Well,” Gibbs yawned, when after a full hour he could tolerate no more, “Should we call it nap time?” 

Though it was only just barely ten in the morning, the dreary weather and a long night of avenging had understandably taken its toll on him. And, knowing Abby and Tim as he did, Tony had no doubt been allowed to stay up quite late whilst in their care. 

“I not tired.” Tony immediately protested, looking sorrowfully at Gibbs with half-closed eyes. “Not even a little bit.” 

Figuring it would do no harm to humor the child, especially after what he had been forced to endure with Juana for a caregiver, Gibbs yawned once more and changed tactics. 

“Well, why don’t we just pop in a movie then?” 

Clearly pleased to have been given his way, even in a matter so small, Tony positively beamed as he clapped his hands. 

“We watch it in here?” He pleaded, tugging hopefully on Gibbs’s arm. 

“Seeing at how the television is the only thing holding up our west wing, I suppose we’ll have to.” Gibbs humored. 

Though it was but a little allowance, Tony threw his arms about Gibbs and squeezed him tightly. 

“I have a bottle, too?” 

While Tony would have ordinarily requested a sippy-cup, or perhaps a spill-proof thermos on the rare occasion he felt more a big boy, the sad fact still remained that the boy had been feeling quite small since the Juana debacle. And while that certainly sadden Gibbs, and perhaps even enraged him, he could not fail to see that such vulnerability in his child could serve to help him talk through the experience. And as such, he full-heartedly exploited the boy’s littleness – all but bribing him into a smaller headspace with copious amounts of spoiling. 

“Of course. I’ll even make some popcorn.” 

“We watch Frozen?” 

Gibbs couldn’t help but cringe guiltily at the question. 

“I stepped on that DVD, remember?” 

And while such an act had most certainly not been an accident, Tony had convinced himself that it was and had forgiven him all the same. 

“We order it on TV?” Tony suggested, looking hopeful. “Only two dollars.” 

While Gibbs would have spent more than thrice that to make his child happy, the fact still remained that he could no longer tolerate any even a minor scene from that abomination of a movie. 

“We could,” Gibbs evaded, searching for a loophole, “But…but I forgot to renew my license to watch that movie.” 

It was a feeble lie, but it had once worked on him when he was small and his father had not wished for him to tag along on a fishing trip with his buddies. 

“We no watch it ever again?” 

While Gibbs had wanted the lie to work, he had not meant for it to be so devastating to his child. 

“Don’t worry, Monkey. I just renewed my license yesterday.” He reassured. “Once it comes, we can watch it again.”

Looking immensely relieved at the good news, Tony relaxed against the small mound of pillows he had earlier created and snuggled Iroh to his chest. 

“Stay put,” Gibbs implored, “I’ll be right back.” 

Knowing that the complacent child would obey, at least marginally, he made no real hurry to get himself into the kitchen. After all, the longer he took to procure the requested snack and beverages, the better chance he had of returning to find his boy already asleep amongst the pillows. 

As such, it was a full ten minutes before he returned to the blanket fort, his arms full of snacks and his face espousing a warm smile. 

“Have you thought of a different movie?” Gibbs questioned the boy, surrendering the bottle into his hands. 

“We watch the cowboy show?” Tony queried. 

“The Lone Ranger?” Gibbs asked, seating himself beside his son. 

“Yeah!” Tony readily agreed, snuggling up close to him. 

“How the hell do you know about The Lone Ranger?” 

Although the program wasn’t exactly an obscure one, the fact still remained that Tony was far too young to have ever grown up watching it regularly. 

“You watched it when I had the plague.” Tony mumbled, frowning at the memory. 

“You were awake for that?” Gibbs questioned. 

“Only some of it.” Tony confirmed, stealing a fistful of popcorn. 

Relieved that he had not inadvertently ignored his son during the precious few moments he had been conscious in that hospital, Gibbs picked up the remote and flipped through the channels until he found the aforementioned program. 

“You know, I used to watch this with my dad on the weekends.” Gibbs remarked, leaning heavily into the pillows. 

“Not your mommy?” 

“Nah,” Gibbs frowned, “I used to watch I Love Lucy with her.” 

While he would have never admitted it that aloud to anyone but Tony, it was not embarrassment that prompted him to keep the experience secret. Rather it was painful nostalgia, the loss of his mother still as difficult to elude to today as was it decades ago. 

“I like Lucy…but Ricky was mean to her.” Tony babbled. “He hitted her.” 

“Yeah,” Gibbs frowned, “He was kind of a jerk.” 

“Daddy was, too.” Tony remarked, a dark expression on his face. “So was –“ 

Before he finished his condemnation, Tony went silent, a guilty expression rising up in his green eyes. Feeling guilty himself at the expression, as he had been the one to continually shoot down his complaints of the nanny, Gibbs frowned and squeezed his shoulder. 

“Juana.” Gibbs supplied. “It’s okay to say it.” 

“Juana was a butthead.” Tony readily assented. “I don’t like her.” 

“I know.” Gibbs soothed. “And that’s why she won’t be coming back.” 

Not only because Gibbs would not allow it, but so too because her subsequent unemployment, as well as her criminal record, would forbid her to. 

“Never?” Tony pressed, looking cautiously optimistic. 

“Never ever.” Gibbs promised, ruffling his hair. “And had I known she was mean to you, I would have never let her stay.” 

Looking close to tears, Tony turned on his side and buried his face in Gibbs’s shirt. 

“You mad I no tell?” 

“No, of course not!” Gibbs insisted, kissing his temple. “This wasn’t your fault. Juana should’ve never hit you.” 

“But Daddy hitted me more.” 

Resisting the urge to hunt down Senior and extract some long overdue vengeance, Gibbs took a deep breath and pressed onward. 

“Nobody should have been hitting you.” He insisted. “No matter how hard. None of what happened to you is okay.” 

“But…is just me.” 

Not able to let his son go on believing himself to be so inconsequential, Gibbs set about to reassert some self-esteem into his boy. 

“Tony, you are just as important as anyone else is.” He began, looking his boy firmly in the eyes. “And if anyone ever lays a hand on you again, or even makes you upset, I want you to come to me so that I can make things better. You matter, Tony. You matter simply because you exist.” 

As a few relieved tears trickled down his cheeks, Tony pressed closer to him. 

“Papa no mad?” He asked once again. 

“No.” Gibbs promised. “I’m mad at myself. I should have noticed something was going on. You would have never acted so naughty without a good reason.” 

Though it was Tony who clearly needed the comforting, it was him who hugged Gibbs tightly. 

“Papa no be sad.” He insisted. “Papa made a mistake.” 

“I really did mess up, Tony. And I’m sorry.” 

“Is okay, Papa.” Tony promised, his smile watery but genuinely. “I forgive you.” 

Not yet finished, Gibbs opened his mouth to continue, only to be cut off by Tony pressing a finger to his mouth. 

“Shhh! The pony is on!”


	43. Chapter 43

Although Tony knew he wasn’t exactly supposed to be running about the house without his Papa being awake and knowledgeable of such, the fact still remained that he was completely ravenous and in need of a midnight snack. In particular, it was the leftover frosting from Abby’s visit he was craving, the call for chocolate being the entire reason he had woken in the first place. Almost positive his Papa could not fault him for fulfilling such a need, as he had never once forbidden him food or drink, Tony made up his mind and pulled a chair out from the kitchen table. Knowing from experience that it would make noise if he pulled it across the wooden floorboards, especially the squeaky board right in front of the microwave, he then carried the sturdy object all the way over to the fridge, nearly toppling over with the exertion and his wobbly balance. Taking a brief moment to recover, as well as to check for sounds that his Papa was still fast asleep, the loud snoring a good indicator of such, he then scrambled up unto the chair and reached for the cabinet above the refrigerator. 

Discovering upon his ascent that said cabinet had been cruelly locked by his Papa with a baby-lock, Tony scowled – the lack of trust making him more than just a little indignant. But such sore feelings did not last long, as he had long ago discovered how to jimmy open those silly little locks Papa insisted on having all around the house. Squeezing the little pieces together with both hands, failing to be perfectly quiet as he did so, Tony made quick work of the substandard safety-guard and flung the cabinet door open.   
Snatching up the half-full container of fudge frosting in his right hand, Tony quickly scrambled down from the chair, figuring there was no time to be wasted if he was to get even a few bites in before Papa caught wind of what he was doing. Figuring that as wise a plan as any, he promptly seated himself on the floor and ripped the lid off with his teeth, putting aside no time to scrounge up a spoon before sticking his fingers into the snack. 

Reveling in his victory, he stuck a large swipe of the sweet into his mouth, shuddering in delight as the chocolate swam down his throat and warmed his rumbling tummy. Figuring he ought to go all the way in this endeavor, as he had already gone so far in sneaking out of bed, he hastened the speed at which he ate, caring but little if he polished off the whole entire thing. Abby certainly wouldn’t mind. In fact, Tony was almost positive she had left it there at his house so that exact purpose – though she would have never admitted to such with Papa in earshot. 

“That’s quite the snack you got there, Lion.” 

Tony nearly yelped as the unfamiliar voice filled the kitchen, having not heard any of the doors open at all. Fearing that a burglar had entered, of worse yet a Faceless Man, his blood ran cold and his eyes filled with tears. Too terrified to find his voice, much less to yell, he tried to hurry to his feet, only to stumble and slip on the lid he had lazily abandoned just moments ago. 

“Hey now, no need for tears.” The Stranger admonished, not unkindly. 

Unable to contest such a silly notion with words, Tony shook his head and let loose a powerful wail. Hoping that it would send his Papa running to him before his face could be stolen, he then backed himself further in the corner, hiding his face behind his hands in the hopes that such an act would buy him time. 

Not at all as angry as Tony expected a burglar to be, the stranger just sighed and shuffled a few feet away, muttering something softly under his breath moments before bright light flooded into the kitchen. 

“There now.” The burglar purred, strolling back over to him. “Isn’t that better?” 

Before Tony could sound out another wail, the sound of heavy feet pounding down the stairs interrupted him. Now more relieved than scared, though he was definitely still terrified, he found his way to his feet – this time careful not to step on the slippery lid as he rose. 

“Tony!” Papa cried, skidding across the floorboards as he rushed into the kitchen. “What happened, what’s the matter!?” 

Too scared to make any noise but whines, Tony flew into his Papa’s arm and clung unto him for dear life, burying his head in the safety of his neck as he dissolved into loud sobs. 

“I think I scared the poor boy, Leeroy.” The Stranger confessed. 

“Dad?” Papa asked, sounded very surprised. “What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night!” 

Now more confused than scared, Tony dared to peek out and see the face of the stranger. Sure enough, when he finally felt brave enough to draw his eyes up from the floor, it was the face of Papa’s daddy greeting him. 

“I texted you three hours ago, Leeroy.” Jackson dismissed. “Don’t you ever check your phone?” 

Tony couldn’t help but giggle as Papa blushed, the idea of him being the one scolded very amusing to him. 

“I must have put the damn thing on mute again.” Papa grumbled, still hugging Tony. 

By now thoroughly reassured that there no Faceless Men come to harvest his skin, Tony relaxed in his Papa’s embrace and smiled at the stranger. 

“I like your hat.” He told the man, pointing at the object. 

“Why, thank you.” He grinned, eyes twinkling brightly. “It’s my lucky fishing hat.” 

His attention now thoroughly captured, Tony wriggled free of his embrace and moved toward Gibbs’s daddy. 

“Did you go fishing?” 

“Just got done.” The wrinkled man confirmed. “Caught me some huge Walleye, too.” 

“Can I see?!” Tony begged. 

“You can actually get yourself back to bed.” Papa countered, finally catching a full glimpse of his face. “After I get your face washed.” 

“But Papa – I wanna see the fishies.” 

“You had better listen to your father.” Jackson advised with a smile. “The fishies will still be here in the morning.”


	44. Chapter 44

Still quite put out that he had been sent back to bed so soon after the exciting arrival of a new house guest, Tony put on his best pout as he made his way down into the kitchen for breakfast. It just wasn’t fair, after all, he murmured into Iroh’s ear. Abby and Tim would have never sent him back to bed after something so exciting, and Abby would have surely helped him polish off the rest of the frosting. All Papa had done was scold him for getting into a forbidden cabinet, his smile unamused as he tossed the partially full container of chocolate into the garbage bin. 

Unfortunately for Tony, his efforts soon proved wasted as he walked into the kitchen. Devoid of any signs of Papa whatsoever, the distinct lack of coffee being the most notable sign, the kitchen sadly lacked the audience he was wishing for. Instead, it was Papa’s daddy at work by the stove, his smile gentle as he prodded at a few strips of bacon with a fork. 

“Uh-oh.” The older man frowned, finally catching sight of Tony. “Looks like we have a Grumpasaurous Rex.” 

“I not grumpy!” Tony insisted, stomping his foot. 

Fully expecting the man to be just like Papa, Tony was genuinely surprised when his foot stomping earned him a sharp glare and a waggling of a fork in his direction. 

“I’ll have none of that now.” He warned, in a tone that might make even Papa tremble. 

“But I grumpy.” Tony explained, hoping that would settle the matter. 

To his great dismay, it did no such thing. 

“You can be as grumpy as you like.” Papa’s daddy shrugged. “But I won’t be dealing with any of that attitude.” 

Seeing himself as thoroughly defeated, at least for the moment, Tony sighed and plopped himself into a chair. Not yet comfortable enough to push any boundaries with the newcomer, at least not without Papa around to intervene on his behalf, he decided to let his displeasure with the man be done by frowning and sighing loudly. 

"Are you going to pout all day?" Jackson wondered aloud. 

“Not pouting.” Tony insisted, crossing his arms. “I mad.” 

“And why is that?” The newcomer asked, leaning against the counter to look at him. 

“Cause Papa not let me say hi to you last night.” 

Though he had expected to be scolded for his honesty, all Jackson did was throw wide open his arms. 

“Nothing’s stopping you now, Lion.” 

Having finally been given the permission he had been denied last night, Tony jumped out of the chair and gave the man a large hug. 

“You know, your Papa wouldn’t have been so cross with you last night if you hadn’t climbed up on a chair to get at that frosting.” 

“I was careful.” Tony rebuttled. 

“That might be.” Jackson humored. “But if I had caught your Papa doing that at your age, I would have swatted his backside.” 

Alarmed at the very idea of Papa ever being scolded in such a manner, Tony moved his hands to cover his backside – now fully understanding of the fact that Papa’s daddy wasn’t to be messed with in any sort of way. 

“Don’t worry.” The newcomer chuckled. “Your backside is safe from me for today.” 

Though he didn’t like the emphasis on the word ‘today,’ Tony kept such thoughts to himself and gently retracted himself from the hug. 

“Where’re you going, Big Guy? Don’t you want to help me make breakfast for your Papa?” 

“I can help?” Tony parroted, delighted at the very thought. 

Though Papa would let him help carry in groceries, he never let Tony help with the cooking – his claims that he would hurt himself far more frustrating than they were annoying. 

“Sure can.” Jackson agreed. “You can start by keeping an eye on the bacon.” 

Not wanting to miss out on such an opportunity, despite not knowing what exactly such a duty entailed, Tony stared unblinkingly at the bacon as Papa’s daddy rooted about in the refrigerator. 

“Try to remember and blink, Lion.” The man encouraged, setting a container of eggs on the counter.


	45. Chapter 45

On Sunday morning, Gibbs awoke to the smell and sounds of an old-fashioned breakfast being made, the sounds and the taste on his tongue momentarily taking him back to his early childhood when his mother was still alive and in love with his father. It wasn’t until the unique melody of Tony’s inharmonious laughter drifted up the stairs, that he realized he was in the present day and bolted upright.

A quick glance at the alarm clock on his bedside table showed him that it was now nine in the morning – the bright red numbers broadcasting the fact that he had slept a full three hours later than usual. Which meant, to great consternation, that Tony had very likely been up for the last four hours wreaking havoc on the house. 

With that in mind, Gibbs all but jumped from his bed and hurried down into the kitchen. 

 

To his great relief, the room was still standing when he entered it, the only notably sign of any mischief being wrought a small smudge of chocolate frosting on the side of the fridge he had missed cleaning the previous night.   
“About time you woke up, Grizzly-Bear.” His father commented, looking away from the newspaper in his hand. 

Though Gibbs couldn’t help but blush at the childish nickname, he made no moves to protest its existence – knowing full-well he would never really be rid of the damned moniker. 

“I guess I was more tired than I thought.” Gibbs shrugged, taking the chair beside his father. 

“With this little hellion running around, I don’t blame you.” 

Though Tony was now innocently coloring at the table, Gibbs had no doubt that the boy had kept his father on his toes. 

“Papa!” Tony babbled, seizing his chance to speak. “I maded the bacon! Have some!” 

Despite harboring several misgivings about the young boy making use of the stove, Gibbs couldn’t help but conceded that the bacon looked fine as well as the child unscathed. 

“Alright,” Gibbs obliged, “Load me up.” 

Bouncing with energy, Tony scurried quickly from his seat and snatched a plate from a cabinet. Pleased he had selected a plastic variety, one that he could not possibly break by dropping on the floor, Gibbs sat back and quietly watched as the boy began to pile up his plate with bacon, sausage, and eggs. 

“Hey now, Monkey, slow down on the food.” Gibbs gently corrected, already feeling arteries closing. 

Misunderstanding the directions, Tony continued on with his task, the only behavior he changed being that of the speed in which he loaded his plate. 

“You give me guff for calling you Grizzly-Bear, and you call your own child a Monkey of all things?” His father demanded, getting up to pour him a cup of coffee. 

“He really is a monkey though.” Gibbs defended, seizing the newspaper. 

Not failing to catch the act, his father scowled and snatched the periodical away before Gibbs even had the opportunity to open it. 

“And you were really a grizzly bear.” Jackson asserting, setting a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. “I swear, you were as ferocious at 7 as you were at 17.” 

“I couldn’t help it.” Gibbs defended. “I got it from Mom.” 

It was no understatement either, for he possessed a myriad of memories in which his mother proved herself to be quite the protective she-bear. In particular, the recollection of mean old Mr. Hoover pointing a gun at him came to mind – his only crime having been bold enough to knock on his door and apologize for breaking his window with a baseball. 

But as scary as Mr. Hoover had been for the six-year-old Gibbs, his mother’s wroth had been far more frightening. Blue eyes blazing wildly, and her mouth twisted into a snarl he had never seen before, the tiny little woman had marched right up to the man and beaten him with his own rifle – threatening all the while to shove it up his ass and pull the trigger the next time he so much as glanced at Gibbs. 

“You sure did.” His father agreed, smiling fondly. 

Before Gibbs could ask the older man if he recalled the Mr. Hoover incident, Tony stole his attentions by doing his ‘wet-dance.’ 

“I’ll be right back.” He told his father, pushing back his chair. 

“Now, Leeroy, there’s no need for you to go and let your food get cold.” His father argued, forcefully pushing back into the table. “I’ll go and take of it.”


	46. Chapter 46

Sunday evening found Gibbs seated upon his couch beside his father, both with a cold beer in hand as they half-focused on the baseball game playing on the television. But as their favored team was irredeemably behind, and their chances of recover but slim at best, the two men’s attention was more on Tony than anything else. 

Droopy-eyed but still adamantly against being put to be early, the boy in question steered the truck they had pilfered from the bakery across the floorboards with gusto, his green eyes dancing merrily as the vehicle took wind and made it’s way unscathed through the elaborate system of cardboard tunnels Gibbs had created for his benefit. 

“You mind if I take your boy out for a small hike tomorrow?” His father asked. “There’s a trail real nearby that I’d like to try out.” 

All but zoned out, Gibbs blinked as his father’s voice flooded into his ears. 

“Hiking?” He parroted, with a small frown. “With Tony?” 

While his father was one of the very few people he would trust the child with, Gibbs couldn’t help but feel a little reluctance when it came to letting the man take his boy on a trip to the woods alone. Tony was an energetic wild-child after all, and on in a fit man’s body at that. If push came to shove, could his aging father really be expected to chase down a distracted Tony and bring him to heel? 

“Hiking.” His father repeated, mistakenly believing he wasn’t being listened to. “It might just help him burn off all that energy he’s got.” 

Going for diplomacy instead of outright refusal, Gibbs answered his father. 

“I suppose we could give it a try.”

Finishing off his fourth beer with a few large gulps, his father swiped at his lips with the back of his sleeve and gave him a queer look. And as such an expression was the same one the man had used whenever he had questioned the many discrepancies in one of his child’s innumerable ass-covering lies, Gibbs couldn’t help but cringe a bit and scoot away unto a headslap-preventative cushion. 

“Not that I wouldn’t enjoy your company, Son, but haven’t you got work tomorrow?” 

As he was now a safe distance from his father’s notoriously hard hands, Gibbs shrugged his shoulders and feigned nonchalance. 

“I haven’t found someone suitable to watch Tony.” He explained. “So I’m calling in sick tomorrow.” 

As Gibbs watched his father’s eyes narrow into slits, he was suddenly doleful of the fact that he had not taken a completely different seat altogether. 

“Am I not suitable, Leeroy?” 

Not liking at all such a dangerous tone of voice, Gibbs immediately set about to playing peacemaker. Unfortunately for him, his father was having absolutely none of it. 

“Dad- “ 

“Don’t you ‘dad,’ me.” His father dismissed with a scowl. “If I’m already up here staying for the week, why shouldn’t I watch the boy while you’re at work?” 

While it was by no means a difficult question to interpret, Gibbs found he had troubles answering straight away. For how was he supposed to tell his father, the man who had raised him, that he questioned his ability to care for a very fit man-child? 

“Are you sure you even want to?” Gibbs queried, hoping to talk some sense into his father. 

“Why not?” His father returned, raising a brow at Gibbs. “It’ll help keep me busy.” 

Stymied, but unwilling to give up, Gibbs pursued a different line of reasoning. 

“I don’t know, Dad. Tony might not be ready for anyone new so soon after Juana.” 

“Then it’s a good thing I aint a stranger to him, isn’t it?” 

While Tony had certainly become familiar with Jackson throughout the long years, to say that they were anything more than familial acquaintances would be pushing it. And Gibbs highly doubted that just a few days had changed such a fact. 

“I just don’t – “ 

Just as stubborn as his son, if not more, Jackson silenced Gibbs with a glare before turning to look at Tony. 

“Hey, Monkey! You want to spend some time with me tomorrow while your Papa goes off to work?” 

It was an underhanded method, but God help them both, it worked. 

“Yes!” Tony all but squealed, his favored car all but forgotten. 

Looking more smug than the oiliest of politicians, his father turned back to him. 

“Well, there you go, Leeroy. It’s been decided.” 

Though Gibbs wanted to remind the man that nothing could be decided without his final input, he didn’t dare for fear of his father’s reprisals and his child’s disappointments. 

“Fine.” He grumbled. “But I don’t want to hear any complaints when I get back from work.” 

“What would I complain about? His behavior?” His father laughed derisively at the very thought. “Look, Leeroy, I survived you – I can handle the boy.” 

“You know, I really don’t think I was that hard on you and mom.” 

His father nearly choked on the sip of beer he had stolen from Gibbs, his blue eyes just as incredulous as his smirk. 

“I’ll remind you that you ran away to join the circus when you were six.” He chuckled, sounding more nostalgic than cross. “And all because I wouldn’t let you sleep in a tree.” 

As childish as it was, Gibbs still found himself getting worked up at the memories of that particular scenario – as it had been the first time in his life he had actually made his mother just as mad as his father.

“I came back.” He defended. 

“You were dragged back.” His father corrected. “After three goddamn days.” 

Not wanting to be bested in yet another argument, Gibbs stood his ground. 

“Nothing bad really happened though. I could have gotten up to all sorts of mischief.” 

“You slept in a rat-infested grain silo. You had to get a rabies shot!” 

Though such a thing had happened decades ago, Gibbs swore he could still feel those thrice-damned needles being poked into his stomach as three nurses held him down. Which had surely been a just enough punishment in his mind, both at six as well as now. 

“I came back!” He reiterated, having found no better argument. 

“Your mother dragged you back by your ear.” 

Though he could certainly laugh about it now, Gibbs could have sworn the woman was going to rip his ear clean off his head at the time. 

“You should have just let me sleep in that tree.” 

“It was all dead wood, Leeroy. The lowest branch was twelve feet off the ground!” 

“A broken bone would’ve hurt far less than those goddamn rabies shots!” 

Though he had been watching the conversation with near-perfect concentration, it was only at his use of the swear that Tony decided to interject some wisdom of his own. And of course, being as capricious as he was, that particular bit of wisdom went in favor of the newcomer. 

“Papa! You’re not supposed to sass!”

Exhausted with the whole ordeal, Gibbs threw up his hands and sunk into the couch cushions. 

“How did you manage to win him over to your side so quickly?” He demanded, giving his father a surly look. 

“Grandpa’s just have that special ability, I guess.” 

Although their earlier feud had all but prevented the man from really bonding with his Kelly, Gibbs hadn’t failed to see the efforts he was making with Tony. 

“I’m going to come home from work and find him in cahoots with you.” 

And what that might entail, Gibbs did not want to know. 

“That’s just a hazard of the job, I suppose.” 

Gibbs simply rolled his eyes, the distance between them making him feel safe enough to do so. 

“Just promise not to lose him in the woods.” 

“Have I ever lost you in the woods?” 

Gibbs grinned at the question, happily seizing his opportunity for revenge. 

“Yes, you did! When I was seven.” 

Despite knowing there was no real way in which he might be able to talk himself out of such a lapse in judgment, Jackson still tried to anyway. 

“You were a Boy Scout.” He dismissed. “You did just fine on your own until I found you.” 

“I was lost for five hours! I missed my ball game.” 

“It was just a peewee league.” 

“I was seven, Dad.” 

Not liking the concept of losing an argument anymore than his son did, Jackson scowled. 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, your mother didn’t talk to me for five days after that one.” 

Though Gibbs couldn’t recall such a punishment, that certainly seemed like something his mother would do. 

“How did you even lose me in the first place?” 

“You went off to pee and took off after a lost dog.”

It had actually been a squirrel Gibbs had taken off after, but God help him, he would take that particular bit of stupidity to his grave. 

“Why didn’t you go after me?” 

“I thought you’d be able to find your way back.” His father rationalized. “I figured by then you should have been an expert at running off.” 

“You really need to learn how to let things go, Dad.” 

“Yeah, I will if you will.” 

Not so stupid as to fail to see an offer for reconciliation, Gibbs nodded. 

“Sounds good to me.” 

“Yup.” His father agreed.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence then, the both of them concentrated on watching Tony at play to avoid any subsequent awkwardness. 

“Remember when you were nine?” His father suddenly asked. “And I let you drive my truck for the first time?” 

Gibbs couldn’t help but smile at the memory, the thought of having been allowed to do something even the bigger boys weren’t having made him near giddy at the time. 

“I ran straight into Ms. Kennedy’s mailbox.” He recalled. “But you lied and told everyone you had been the one driving.” 

And even though he was almost certain his mother hadn’t believed him, the rest of the town had – sparing Gibbs the indignity of being harassed by the bigger boys. 

“There still isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.” 

Though it was certainly awkward, Gibbs nodded. 

“I know that now. I just wish I had realized it sooner.” He frowned. “I mean, I put you and mom through absolute hell.” 

“Yeah, and Kelly would have done the same to you eventually. That’s just a part of growing up. Some kids are just a little more difficult than others is all.” He looked at Tony then, a small smile on his face. “And some are a whole lot easier.” 

“Get through tomorrow, Dad, and then you can tell me how easy he is.”


	47. Chapter 47

Gibbs returned from his workday rather early, the Director having been uncharacteristically lax for the first time in weeks, and soon found his elderly father asleep on the couch whilst his son played in front of the television with his dozens of barbies. Opting, for the moment, to ignore his negligent father, Gibbs smiled and leaned up against the doorframe, merely content to watch the scene at hand. 

Clearly mimicking a wedding, with a black-haired barbie that looked suspiciously like Abby as well as a Ken-Doll he thought might pass for Tim, the boy babbled away some garbled mess of wedding vows- a small smile on his face as he remained all but oblivious to anything else in the world. 

“Who’s getting married, Kiddo?” Gibbs questioned, moving to sit on the floor beside him. 

Pausing in his play to spare his father a bright smile, as well as a bone-crushing hug, Tony held up the dolls near his face and babbled his explanation. 

“Tim and Abby is getting married.” 

“Oh, are they now?” Gibbs indulged. 

Though it was very likely that Tim would pop the question before the year was out, if not the month, Gibbs pushed such unpleasant thoughts away from his head and opted to focus entirely on his boy. 

“Uh-huh.” Tony nodded, his smile wide. “Do you want to be the peecher?” 

“Abby is a Catholic, Tony.” Gibbs corrected. “She’ll need a priest.” 

Having grown up with a Grandmother who swore Catholics were the spawn of Satan, as well as possessors of tails and horns, Gibbs knew but little of the religion. Aside from the occasional tidbit from the devout Abby, or a not-so-fun fact from Ducky, all he could really claim knowledge on was the fact that they kneeled a lot and obeyed a perpetually celibate man called a priest. 

“Oh, yeah!” Tony grinned, laughing at himself. “You be the peest, then?” 

“Yeah,” Gibbs obliged, “I’ll be the peest.” 

Thus promised, Gibbs rooted about the small pile of toys until he came across one of Tony’s much-neglected Gi-Joe dolls. 

“How about him?” He asked the boy. “Will he work?” 

“NO!” Tony scowled, swatting the toy from his hand. “Papa is a marine. Not an army grunt!” 

Much too flattered to scold the boy for such an innocent little outburst, Gibbs chuckled and help up his hands in a gesture of peace-keeping. 

“My bad.” He apologized, his tone a conciliatory one. “Who shall I be, instead?” 

“Him!” Tony decided, thrusting a stuffed Grizzly-Bear into his arm without hesitation. 

Knowing full-well that he, himself, had not purchased such a toy for the child, Gibbs inwardly vowed vengeance on his father before accepting the toy. 

“Shall I begin?” He asked the boy, wishing to be soon rid of the offending object. 

“Please.” 

Awarding Tony with a smile for his usage of such good manners, Gibbs made the furry officiant amble over to the prospective bride and groom. 

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Abigail Scuito and Timothy McGee – “ 

Before he had the opportunity to embarrass himself by forgetting the next lines, despite having only just celebrated his most recent divorce a year ago, Tony spared him the indignity by interrupting. 

“Papa, what is union?” 

“It’s just a fancy word for marriage, Monkey.” Gibbs explained. 

Expecting the boy to move back to playing now that his curiosity had been sated, Gibbs re-straightened the bear in his hand and made to continue – only to be interrupted once more. 

“Does you have to be married to have a baby?” 

Though the question seemed to come from left-field, Gibbs shrugged away his concern by assuming Abby had introduced the boy to the Wedding Channel during one of her many babysitting gigs. 

“Not necessarily.” Gibbs shrugged. 

To be quite truthful, Shannon hadn’t exactly been a virgin at the altar. To be quite frank, in fact, she had been three weeks pregnant. 

“Papa, where do babies come from?” 

Nearly choking on his tongue at the question, not at all prepared to be faced with the same awkward questions Kelly and her friends had once asked at a slumber party, Gibbs raked his brain for a suitable answer. 

“Well, you see, the thing is – “ 

As if to prove that he was, indeed merciful, God chose at that moment to make his father wake. 

“Leeroy?” The man yawned, glancing at his watch. “You home already?” 

“It’s half-past four.” 

“Yeah, well, you said you usually rolled in around six or so.” Jackson grumbled, seemingly disgruntled at his interrupted nap. 

“We had an early day, is all.” Gibbs shrugged. “Sorry to interrupt your nap.” 

Scowling at the truthful insinuation that he had been negligent in his duties as a babysitter, Jackson sat up straighter and glared at his son. 

“I wasn’t napping.” The older man asserted. “I was just resting my eyes while I waited for him to finish up with those dolls of his.” 

Seeing Tony frown at the disparaging tone being used to describe his beloved dolls, Gibbs quickly intervened and changed the subject. 

“How was Tony? Did he behave?” 

Though he had not feared that his father would mistreat the boy like Juana had, Gibbs had more certainly been concerned about the possible temper-tantrums Tony might have thrown after being given a new babysitter so very soon after the nanny incident. 

“That kid is the energizer bunny, let me tell you.” 

Picking up on one of his favorite words, Tony beamed brightly and decided to finally contribute to the conversation. 

“Papa, we sawed a bunny!” 

“Did you now?” Gibbs encouraged. 

“Uh-huh! He was brown with white spots!” 

Shifting into a more comfortable position on the floor, Gibbs nodded along to the commentary. 

“What else did you see?” 

“Then we sawed two squirrels.” 

“Two?” Gibbs asked feigning excitement. 

“Yup!”

Though he could have stayed all day in the living room listening to Tony provide a commentary on everything he had seen that day, Gibbs reluctantly climbed to his feet and smiled ruefully down at the now-disappointed boy. 

“I have to go start supper, Kiddo. But why don’t you make me a picture of everything you saw today?” 

As he was planning on making a steak stir-fry, something that largely involved the use of his stove, Gibbs was rather glad when Tony happily agreed to the project instead of begging to help with supper.   
Evidently not of a mind to play audience to the nuptials happening in the living room, Jackson followed after him, a mildly concerned expression splayed across his face. Knowing his father well enough to know that the man had not come to assist with supper, Gibbs frowned and turned to look at the men. 

“Can I help you with something?” 

Having the grace to at least blush at being caught out so easily, his father halted in his tracks for a moment before recovering himself well enough to learn up against the counters. 

“Are…are you really okay with your boy playing with those…dolls?” 

As they were only newly reconciled, and Jackson wasn’t outright trying to be adversarial, Gibbs clamped down on his temper and tried for a bit of diplomacy. 

“Why wouldn’t I be fine with him playing with dolls? They’re just like any other toy, aren’t they?” Giving his father a pointed look, Gibbs also added, “I had dolls, too.” 

“You had Gi-Joes.” His father countered. 

“Which are dolls.” Gibbs rebuttled. 

“No.” Jackson huffed. “They’re action figures. Made for boys.” 

As Shannon’s mother had once voiced similar arguments for their allowing of Kelly to play with superhero toys, the argument rattled him more than he cared to be rattled. 

“I really don’t see what the difference is.” 

“Well,” Jackson floundered for a moment, “Aren’t you just the least bit concerned that your boy likes dolls so much?” 

Chopping up a steak a bit more violently than necessary, Gibbs swallowed down a curse before answering. 

“No. Not really.” 

“Leeroy,” His father sighed, “The boy was playing beauty salon with them just this morning.” 

“Yeah, well, he went with Abby to the salon a few days ago.” Gibbs shrugged. “No doubt he’s just been mimicking what he saw. Kids do that, you know.” 

“You didn’t.” Jackson argued. 

“You wouldn’t let me.” Gibbs scowled. 

“You were a boy.” 

“I still am.” Gibbs retorted. “And I play dolls with Tony. It’s actually quite fun, really. Did you even give it a chance?” 

“Oh, don’t give me that sass. I played all sorts of games with him. We played hide-and-seek for goddam near two hours- not to mention all the hiking.” 

Finding such an action prudent, if not necessary, Gibbs set aside his knife for the moment. 

“But you didn’t even consider picking up a doll to play with him, did you?” 

“I’m a grown ass man, of course I didn’t.” 

Ignoring the flimsy argument, Gibbs pressed onward. 

“Would you have for Kelly, though?” 

“Kelly hated dolls.” Jackson deflected. 

“Just answer the question.” Gibbs insisted. 

Though it took him a long time to do so, Jackson did, in fact, answer the question. 

“I suppose I would have.” 

“So why wouldn’t you do the same for Tony?” 

Looking exhausted, Jackson simply shook his head and stalked into the living room. 

Fuming himself, Gibbs allowed the man to go without flinging any retorts at his back, not wishing to antagonize the man whilst Tony was awake and likely to witness the fallout. Instead, he focused on the task at hand, the act of cooking having always proven itself to be a calming force in his life. 

It was only once he was suitably calm, and the supper ready, that he made to call forth the inhabitants of the living room. 

To his great surprise, as well as relief, he found the two men currently at play with the barbies – the two of them acting out some sort of safari adventure wherein the animals had gone rogue and were clearly trying to eat their viewers.


	48. Chapter 48

Much to the delight of everyone involved, a tentative sense of normalcy was achieved within the Gibb’s household by Wednesday – such a happy result enabling all involved to go about their day without harboring any sort of anxiety as to the well-being of the others. For not only was Gibbs able to take off for work without having to deal with any guilt-producing tantrums, so too was Tony able to face his days without any sense of worry or dread as to what might come. 

Although when Gibbs came home from work that evening and discovered both his father and child enveloped on the couch eating an entire pumpkin pie, he couldn’t help but think that such a schedule was, perhaps, just a little too lenient. 

“Really, Dad, pie?” 

“It’s pumpkin pie.” His father shrugged, making no moves to cease eating. 

“And pumpkin is a vegetable.” Tony warbled, face smeared with whipped cream. 

Though he was a tad bit peeved at the thought of having to later coax the boy into taking an earlier bath than usual, such an action necessary if he was to prevent the mess from getting unto every surface in his house, Gibbs couldn’t help but smile fondly at the scene as he recalled his father doing the same sort of thing with him whenever his mother was away for the day. Although back then, of course, it had been entire tubs of strawberry ice-cream they had shared. 

“Where did you even find a pumpkin pie at this time year?” He wondered aloud, stalking over to the couch to steal a swipe of whipped cream. 

“I made it.” His father answered, mouth full of pie. 

As the man in question had quite the reputation back in Stillwater for having once set his kitchen on fire trying to make a grilled cheese, as well as giving his young son food poisoning trying to create a salad with an expired can of tuna, the small fib was almost insulting with its lack of effort. 

“Alright, fine.” His father scowled, caving to the incredulous look he was getting. “I bribed one of the bakeries into making it.” 

Having done something similar to provide a milkshake for Tony, Gibbs held back on any reprimands whereas the spoiling of his son was involved. For not only would it make him a hypocrite, but so too would the act carry out no real purpose other than to aggravate all the parties involved. Instead, he stalked into the kitchen to fetch a spoon of his own before returning to the couch to dig into whatever was left of the pie. 

“What did you and my father do today, Kiddo?” Gibbs asked, swallowing down a delicious mouthful of the pie. 

“Grampa taked me hiking again!”

Though he tried to be polite and conceal the fact, Gibbs couldn’t but smirk at the moniker Tony had apparently decided to gift his father that day.   
“What else did you do today?” 

 

“We watched Frozen!” 

A quick glance at his father, and Gibbs was almost certain that they had watched the film more than just once. 

“Tony,” Gibbs grimaced, “Our license to watch that movie hasn’t come yet.” 

Though the lie would surely spare his father the agonies of watching the horrid movie yet another time, Gibbs’s primary concern fell largely with his own sanity. 

“Well, it’s a good thing your license arrived in the mail then.” His father retorted, his grin practically of an evil nature as he gestured at a slip of paper on the table. 

Gibbs couldn’t help but mumble a curse when he realized the item was a handmade license – the crude handiwork having been created with a spare slip of purple construction paper and black sharpie pen. 

“Don’t you give me that look, Leeroy. You made me read “Corduroy” to you so many goddamn times I can still recite it from memory.” 

“What’s Corduroy?” Tony questioned, tugging on his grandfather’s sleeve. 

“It’s a book about a bear who wanders around a store.” Gibbs answered, giving his father a mischievous grin. “If you want, I’ll order a copy off Amazon for you.” 

As Tony loudly voiced his agreement to the plan, and his father groaned loudly his displeasure at the idea of being forced to relive his nightmares, Gibbs used the distraction to quickly round up all the Sharpies his father had carelessly left out. Because although his boy didn’t seem like the type to liken pristine walls to canvases, Kelly had certainly done so enough times to warrant his excess of caution. 

“Papa!” Tony warbled, smiling brightly at him. “You watch Frozen with me?!” 

Forcing himself to keep a neutral expression, Gibbs shook his head. 

“I have to cook up something for myself to eat. Why don’t you watch it with your grandfather, instead?”


	49. Chapter 49

As his father had gone off to bed rather early, shamelessly playing the old-age card, it had been up to Gibbs to endure another hellish viewing of Frozen with his still wide-awake child. But figuring a pie involved sugar-high was to blame for such restlessness in his young boy, he bit back all complaints and allowed his boy’s bedtime to come and go, knowing full-well (as he did) that Tony could not be to blame for such a lack of drowsiness. That Gibbs should be entirely exhausted by tomorrow was of no real concern- especially not with the director behaving the way she was lately. 

“Turn up, Papa.” Tony pleaded, as ‘Let It Go,’ began to play. 

Seeing as the volume was already up high enough to saturate the living room with the blaring notes, Gibbs shook his head to indicate refusal and removed the remote safely out of Tony’s reach – earning himself a pitiful whine in response to such cruelty. 

“We wouldn’t want to wake up Grampa, would we?” 

Although he teared up significantly at the news that his wishes would not be complied with, Tony stifled any real complaints he had to himself and brought his bottle back up to his mouth with one sluggish hand. Eyes drifting half-closed as he suckled down the warm liquid, he then used his free hand to rub absent-mindedly at his left ear. 

“C’mon, Monkey. I think it’s about time we tried for some sleep.” 

Having found his child to be largely complacent throughout the entire evening, Gibbs was quickly thrown off-guard as his son began to wail loudly at the news he was being put to be at the horrifically unreasonable hour of 1:30. Exhausted himself, and not knowing what else was to be done to quell such a sudden fit, Gibbs simply sighed and made to stand – ardently hoping that the distraught boy in question would simply follow after him upstairs. 

“No!” Tony grumbled, going stiff on Gibbs lap. “No go!” 

Letting the behavior slid, just this once, he lightly tapped the boy on his thigh. 

“Yes.” Gibbs corrected, although not unkindly. “Get up.” 

Gibbs didn’t need to be a psychic to know that his repeated demands hadn’t fallen on receptive ears as a dangerous gleam came to grace the toddler’s green eyes. But before he could so much as intervene physically, much less vocalize to the angry child that he had better not do what he was planning to do, Tony growled and chucked his bottle clear across the living room and into the kitchen. 

“Anthony Angelo.” Gibbs scolded, more firmly than loud. “Shame on you.” 

It was only then that the tears came, their composition this time more pitiful instead of angry and wrathful. Sensing the remorse via the expression in the boy’s eyes, Gibbs was instantly forgiving, his ire all but forgotten as he moved his fingers to swipe away the tears falling down Tony’s face. Embracing the contact, the distraught toddler nuzzled against his shoulder, one hand firmly grasping a fistful of his shirt whilst the other tugged away at his offending left ear. 

“Tony,” He frowned, resting his palm on the boy’s forehead, “Are you feeling alright?” 

To say that his charge was warm would be an understatement. 

“Na-uh.” Tony scowled, burying his head into Gibbs’s shoulder. 

Figuring that a slight fever in a grown man would not at all be deadly, he still couldn’t help but frown in concern as he watched the toddler cry and tug at his ear. Because as relieved as Gibbs was that such an ailment would never be able to compare to the plague, he was not at all comforted by the fact as he considered just how uncomfortable his boy clearly was. 

“Why didn’t you tell me weren’t feeling good?” He murmured, too concerned to be wounded at the lack of communication. 

“No whining.” Tony replied, his mimicry sounding suspiciously similar to Senior’s. 

Angry for about the thousandth time with such a pitiful waste of a man, Gibbs resolved once more to one day confront the slimy weasel about his treatment of the boy in his lap. But, he reasoned, such actions would have to wait for a more reasonable time. Because, at the moment, his son needed him. 

“Silly boy, it’s not whining if you really don’t feel good.” He gently reprimanded, carding his fingers through the boy’s sweaty hair.

When the fevered child made no real reply other than to further burrow into his shirt, Gibbs took parental action. 

“C’mon, Monkey.” 

Having evidently used up all his energy in the last fifteen minutes, Tony bonelessly allowed Gibbs to slide him off his lap. 

“Follow me.” Gibbs coaxed, taking his child’s sweaty hand to pull him from the couch. 

Hand-in-hand they made their way through the house, the elder concerned and sympathetic and the younger passive and pitiful. As such, they reached the upstairs bathroom in record time. 

“Hold tight.” Gibbs instructed the boy, gently planting him on the closed lid of the toilet. 

Waiting a moment to see that his child would, indeed, obey, Gibbs then shuffled over to the medicine cabinet and rifled through the unorganized mess. Shoving aside bottle after bottle of only partially-empty Nyquil bottles, as well as a few expired tums, he returned victoriously to his child with the object he had been searching for. 

“Open.” Gibbs coaxed, holding the thermometer close to Tony’s face. 

When Tony only scowled blearily at the object, Gibbs sighed and resorted to using a mild threat. 

“One way or another, it’s going in you.” He warned, raising a threatening eyebrow. 

Were he not ill, the speed in which his child opened his mouth might have been comical in nature. But, as it was, Tony was clearly ill and in great discomfort. A fact which easily sucked out the humor in anything that Gibbs might have found amusing – especially so when he removed the thermometer to discover that the display read 101.9.

“Looks like you’ve got a fever, Monkey.” Gibbs sighed. “As well as an ear infection.” He quickly added, catching sight of Tony tugging at his ear once more.


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I need some reviews and suggestions, people! Please!?

Although it only took Ducky fifteen minutes to arrive, it might as well have been an hour given just how poorly both Gibbs men endured such an unconscionable timeframe. All but confined to an uncomfortable toilet lid with a distraught toddler wailing loudly in his ear, his ass having long ago become numb to all sensation, the minutes seemed to him more like hours than anything else. To be quite frank, the only thing that had kept him even remotely sane throughout the arduous waiting period was his repeated reminders to himself that his discomfort was surely negligible compared to Tony’s own discomfort and pain. 

“Well now, what have we here?” Ducky had asked, strolling casually into his colleague’s bathroom as if it were an everyday ordeal.

Though Gibbs was as near to panicking as he had been when Tony had the plague, he couldn’t help but notice the Medical Examiner’s pajamas were clumsily buttoned and all but inept at hiding the particularly loud hickey’s lining his neck. 

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.” Gibbs mumbled, unable to refrain from razzing the man. 

Blushing as red and bright as an overripe tomato, Ducky plopped his old-fashioned doctors bag unto the sink and tried (and failed) to conceal his face as he rummaged about the medical contents held within.

“Never you mind that, Jethro.” The taller man finally managed, resurfacing with a thermometer of his own. “You just let me tend to young Anthony here.” 

Resolving to bring up the tantalizing subject later, whenever a more appropriate time presented itself, Gibbs gently shook a still-wailing Tony back to reality and his brought his attention to the fact that Ducky had finally arrived. But rather than being absolutely delighted at the older man’s presence, as usually he was, the fevered toddler pressed closer to Gibbs and outright glared at the unoffending Medical Examiner. 

“No! No doctor!” Tony shouted, his glower powerful even as his bottom lip wobbled pitifully. “No poke!” 

Once more ignoring such an understandable outburst, Gibbs calmly shushed Tony and squeezed him tightly. 

“It’s only Ducky, Tony.” He all but crooned. “And Ducky would never hurt you.” 

As Gibbs received only a skeptical frown in response, the doctor in question intervened with a promise of his own. 

“Rest assured, little one, I have brought no needles with me.” Ducky promised, depositing his antique bag unto the boy’s lap. “Go on, have yourself a look.” 

Casting a quick glance at Gibbs to assure himself that he really was allowed to look through Ducky’s special bag, Tony immediately set to work searching for anything that even remotely resembled the needles he so loathed. Meticulously going about the ordeal in the same manner he had once investigated crime scenes, his focus intense and his eyes slightly narrowed, the boy spent a good five minutes in that manner before, at least, he was forced to concede that there were no hidden needles waiting to poke him. 

“Papa,” Tony half-whispered, “What this?” 

Dangling a plum-colored stethoscope by one end as if it were a poisonous snake, Tony waggled the medical tool in his face with a curious frown playing across his features. 

“Ah,” Ducky smiled, “That my dear boy, is a stethoscope. I can listen to people’s hearts with such a tool.” 

Looking as if Ducky had just revealed some of the greatest secrets of the world, Tony shook the colorful equipment near to his uninfected ear for a long few seconds. And when that soon failed to produce any amusing outcome, Tony soon frowned and began to shake the tool harder. 

“While your enthusiasm is certainly admirable, I don’t believe it will give you the desired effects.” Ducky softly admonished, gently extracted the equipment from the curious toddler’s hands. “May I show you the correct way?” 

Receiving a tentative nod by way of reply, the Medical Examiner gingerly placed one of the ear prongs in Tony’s good ear, all but leaving the other one largely ignored, and then placed the large amplifier on his own chest. And though it took a bit for the boy to finally register what he was hearing, his face absolutely lit up the moment he did. 

“Do you hear that, Anthony?” Ducky questioned. “That is my heart.” 

“Loud.” Tony mumbled, absent-mindedly rubbing at his left ear. 

“That is a good thing.” The Medical Examiner assured with a smile. “Shall we compare it to your Papa’s heartbeat?” 

Unwaveringly believing any experience that involved his father to be a superior one, Tony nodded eagerly and watched in wide-eyed anticipation as Ducky pressed the sound-piece to Gibbs’s chest. 

“Ah, his does not sound like mine did, does it?” Ducky grinned, very pleased to see his work being valued. 

When he received a nod of the head in response, the Medical Examiner took that as permission to carry on. 

“That is because your Papa has a hear murmur, little one.” The bespectacled man explained. 

“I has a heart mumble?” Tony questioned, looking excited at the thought of sharing something with his father. 

“I don’t believe you do, Anthony.” Ducky informed with a frown. “However,” He quickly added, seeing Tony’s disappointment, “I do believe you are both mildly allergic to penicillin.” 

Satisfied with the news he did, indeed, share a medical trait with his beloved father, Tony allowed Ducky to return the stethoscope to his timeworn bag without complaint. 

“Now, young Anthony, this is an otoscope.” The man educated, holding the tool close to Tony’s face. “It is quite similar to a little flashlight, as you’ll notice, and it is primarily used for looking in a patience ear.” 

Although he had been a rapt listener for the most part, the very moment Ducky even suggested his ear be looked at threw Tony back into a small fury. And it was with a pitiful look of betrayal that he glared at both he and Gibbs, his green eyes instantaneously clouding with frustration and rage. 

“No!” He hollered, kicking his feet. “No ear!” 

“Tony,” Gibbs sighed, putting a hand on the boy’s feet to still them, “Ducky isn’t going to be putting that IN your ear. He’s just going to use it to LOOK in your ear.” 

Though Tony looked quite dubious, he glanced at Ducky for confirmation. 

“Your father is quite right, young man.” He readily assured. “In fact, you ought NEVER to stick anything in your ear.” 

“No hurt?” Tony pressed, cutting his doctor off being he could go off on a tangent about ear safety. 

“I think not.” Ducky smiled. “Shall I look in your Papa’s ears first?” 

“Uh-huh!” Tony quickly agreed, a tentative smile creeping back on his face. 

“Very well.” Ducky pronounced. “Let us begin.” 

Sitting perfectly still even as the cold metal brushed against his ear, Gibbs endured the painless medical procedure as calmly as he endured clipping his own fingernails – his main motivator being, of course, the reassurance of his nervous child. 

“Ah, it’s just as I suspected.” Ducky quipped, grinning at the boy. “Your Papa needs a good trimming of the ear hair.” 

Before Gibbs could even argue that such a suggestion was unneeded, Tony leaped to his defense with an innocent retort. 

“But we no stick things in our ears.” 

Gracefully accepting defeat so that he would no undermine his earlier message to Tony, Ducky hid his annoyed frown well and brought the otoscope back near Tony. And though the boy was clearly scared stiff, he remained as still as possible, eager to obey his older friend’s instructions and prove himself to be a big boy. 

“Count to five and it will all be over.” Ducky promised, putting the instrument up to Tony’s ear. 

To everyone’s chagrin, Tony only lasted to three before letting lose a series of fresh new wails, the gentle contact clearly having been all too much for his aggravated ear. Instantly sympathetic, as well as absurdly cross with Ducky for having made his boy so fretful, Gibbs hugged his boy tightly and willed his rising panic away. 

“Young Anthony definitely has an ear infection, alright.” Ducky frowned, tousling Tony’s hair affectionately. “Have you given him anything for the pain yet?” 

“I wanted to see what you recommend first before I gave him anything.” Gibbs explained, having to speak loudly to be heard about the wails. 

Nodded his understanding, Ducky turned to his doctor’s bag and rooted about for a few seconds before unearthing a small bottle of medicine. 

“Allow to me give the poor lad some liquid Tylenol.” He offered, already measuring out the correct amount. 

Never one to be good about taking any prescribed medication, it took Gibbs bribing Tony with chocolate frosting for breakfast for the boy to even open his mouth. After that, it took promising him a late bedtime tomorrow for him to even consider swallowing the liquid. 

“Attaboy.” Gibbs crooned, when at last the boy complied. 

Far to irritable to even find solace in the praise, Tony slapped his hands away from his hair and buried his face in Gibbs’s shoulder, refusing to resurface even when his ribs were tickled by his desperate Papa.

“I highly recommend you get your boy to b-e-d, Jethro.” Ducky advised, placing a sympathetic hand on Gibbs’s shoulder. “You might also place a warm heating-pack near his ear to help soothe the ache.”   
Grateful that he still had possession of the heating-pack wife number three had left behind, Gibbs nodded to show he was listening and held his boy close. 

“Do you think I should take him to the d-o-c-t-o-r tomorrow morning?” 

“You could.” Ducky shrugged. “But they will not advise you to do anything I haven’t already suggested.” 

“They won’t even give him an antibiotic?” Gibbs demanded, more weary than offended. 

“Not at his age, no.” Ducky dismissed. “I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait this out.” 

Although he knew the Medical Examiner was not to blame for his child’s plight, Gibbs still couldn’t help but grumble aloud his main grievance. 

“So I’m just supposed to watch him suffer?” 

Of course not.” Ducky frowned, patting his shoulder. “As I said, you can administer the Tylenol in the usual amounts at the appropriate intervals. That, as well as the heating pack, should help whereas pain management is concerned.” 

“And there really isn’t anything else I can do?” 

“I’m afraid not, Jethro.” Ducky sighed. “But perhaps you might find some comfort in knowing that these sorts of common infections don’t normally last more than a few days.” 

“It doesn’t.” Gibbs frowned. “But thank you.” 

“It was my pleasure.” Ducky replied, tousling Tony’s hair. “Do be sure to call me if you need anything else.” 

“Believe me, I will.” 

“Perfect.” Ducky smiled. “I shall stop by tomorrow to see how things are progressing.”


	51. Chapter 51

Much as Ducky had promised, Tony’s terrible ear infection had dwindled in severity by the next evening and had all but vanished completely the afternoon after that. As such, all three Gibbs men were currently seated on the living-room couch in celebration – a bowl of ice-cream in each of their hands and “The Lone Ranger,” playing proudly on their television. Simply relieved that his boy was no longer inconsolably ill, as well as grateful that said child’s movie fixation had taken a drastic turn in the last few days, Gibbs laughed with reserve and even turned his work phone on mute. 

“I have to say, I sure do enjoy this furry little critter more than that princess movie.” Jackson announced, mouth still full of maple-nut ice cream. 

“He’s the Lorax.” Tony reminded his grandfather, face smeared with his cotton-candy flavored ice cream. 

“Right, the Lorax.” Jackson humored, giving his grandson a small nod. 

Passing each of the messy eaters a fistful of wet-wipes, Gibbs set aside his empty bowl of strawberry ice cream and leaned back against the couch cushions, the lack of sleeping all but getting to him as he closed his eyes and listened to his son prattle on to his grandfather about the best parts of his new favorite movie. In particular, it seemed to be the songs his child loved best, his excitement at some scores so intense and uncontainable he could not help but sing along in his powerful baritone. It was with a small smile that Gibbs suddenly realized he would have never known Tony was such a fantastic singer had it not been for his work-related poisoning. 

“Leeroy,” His father suddenly called, gently shaking his shoulder, “Wake up.” 

Reluctantly flicking his eyes open, Gibbs groaned and gave his father a diluted glare, far too exhausted to anything further. 

“Don’t you give me that look.” His father mildly scolded. “I told you I was headed out to the farmers market this afternoon.” 

“Ugh, that’s right.” Gibbs grunted, slowly sitting up. 

“I could stay if you need a nap.” His father instantly offered, his blue eyes just as kind as ever. 

Knowing that there were precious few things his father enjoyed more than spending a good few hours at a farmer’s market, fishing being one of those few things, Gibbs quickly dismissed the notion that he might need an early nap and all but insisted he go and attend the function. 

“Well, if you insist.” Jackson finally agreed, slipping his truck keys from his pocket. “But are you sure you two don’t want to come along?” 

Having experienced several torturous forays into a farmer’s market in his youth, the likes of which involved listening to his father ramble on about the price of corn with the farmers as well as haggle with the womenfolk endlessly about the prices of their fruit, Gibbs quickly declined on his behalf as well as Tony’s. 

“Alright, I won’t badger you.” Jackson readily agreed. “But I will bring you back a mango, Grizzly Bear.” 

Though Gibbs despised very few foods as much as he loathed mangoes, he put on a false smile and thanked his father for the offer all the same. It would not be any real effort on his part, after all, to choke down the foul-smelling fruit his father gifted him – not when he knew it made the man so absurdly happy to see such an act. 

His mother had been the one responsible that, Gibbs thought with a sudden burst of melancholy. Bedridden and besieged with a cancer-related fever, the delirious woman had inadvertently requested that her husband take up the tradition of sharing a mango with her at breakfast when she could no longer do so herself. And when Jackson had returned red-eyed from the specialty market with a large bagful of the stinking fruit, well, Gibbs just hadn’t had the heart to tell his father that it had actually been grapefruits his mother was speaking of. 

“And what about you, Tony?” Jackson asked, oblivious to his only child’s remembrances. “What should I bring back for you?” 

“Red blueberries, please.” Tony requested, grinning widely up at his grandfather. 

Reasonably befuddled, Jackson turned to his son for help. 

“He means raspberries, Dad.” 

Laughing aloud at such an absurdity, Jackson ruffled both the younger men’s hair before heading out, the sounds of his discordant laughter almost enough to make the glass shiver in their frames. Newly invigored by the sound, Gibbs even chuckled himself as he brushed the sleep from his heavy eyes. 

“What’s so funny?” Tony questioned, wide-eyed and perfectly innocent. 

“Oh, nothing.” Gibbs dismissed, smoothing his curls. “We just had a case of the sillies.” 

As he was frequently accused of having such an ailment by his beloved Abby all the time, Tony readily accepted the answer as gospel and turned back to his bowl to finish off his last scoop of cotton-candy ice cream. 

“Papa?” The boy asked, after a short moment had peacefully elapsed. 

“Yes?” Gibbs asked, fully anticipating a request for another scoop of ice cream. 

“Where do babies come from?”


	52. Chapter 52

Though Gibbs had inevitably once been forced to explain the mysteries of conception to Kelly, Shannon having been out of town that particularly slow weekend, he had at least been given the advantage of his audience being a very mature eight-year old. That he was now being asked to explain the same biological concept to a man who was only three on his ‘bigger’ days was almost all too much for him to handle. For not only did he not have the vocabulary necessary for such an undertaking, neither did he have the resolve for explaining such a concept to a child who was all but guaranteed to ask an endless barrage of awkward questions. 

“Did you want more ice cream?” Gibbs evaded, suddenly anxious. “Let me get you more ice cream.” 

Frowning, Tony moved his empty from his father’s reach and shook his head. 

“My tummy is full.” He argued, his gaze firm and unyielding. 

Not given the easy out he had hoped for, Gibbs stood rooted to the spot and helplessly began to wonder if he might not satiate his child’s curiosity with the age-old tale of the mythical stork. The boy was certainly imaginative and creative enough to believe such a thing, he reasoned, and the trust he had for Gibbs was nearly infallible. Surely if he spun such an antiquated yarn, that would be it. Why, in only a matter of minutes they could be back to their movies and binging. 

“Well,” Gibbs began, face flushing hot with a blush, “What happens is that…Well, there’s this bird, you see, and…he’s a…big bird, a very big bird. Actually, you know what? There’s a whole lot of these birds, yeah?” 

Whereas Tony was only curious before, he was not utterly and hopelessly confused. Head crooked to one side, and with a small frown playing on his lips, the young man looked almost concerned as he gazed at his father with wide-eyed bafflement. 

“The birds.” Gibbs babbled, trying to straighten out the desired narrative in his head. “It’s the birds.” 

Before he could further expand upon such a flimsy premise, he was interrupted by the sound of light footfalls pattering behind him. Already knowing who it was without turning about, Gibbs’s anxiety only increased as he helplessly stared down at his horribly confused son. 

“Ah,” Ducky purred, strolling further into the room, “What is this about birds, now?” 

All but ignoring his father’s fractured narrative, as well as the Medical Examiner’s innocent inquiry, Tony turned his focus unto the newcomer and voiced anew the question he had only asked moments ago. 

“Where do babies come from?” 

To Ducky’s credit, as well as Gibbs’s great surprise, the Medical Examiner did not miss a beat as he seated himself beside the youngster and launched into a surprisingly succinct explanation. And though Gibbs couldn’t help but think all the details he provided to be a little much for a boy his age, he was far too relieved to have gotten out giving the explanation himself to intervene. 

“It’s an amazing process, actually.” The Medical Examiner smiled, clearly pleased to have, at long last, a receptive audience. “What happens, first of all, is that a certain seed from a gentleman finds its way into a woman’s uterus.” 

“What’s an ooterus?” Tony wondered, childishly butchering the word. 

By now far too mortified to by anything more than an unwilling audience, Gibbs collapsed into a recliner and fought off the urge to hide his face in his hands. 

“I suppose it would be best described as the special sack a woman has in her body.” Ducky easily explained. “And it is precisely there that a baby readies itself to be born.” 

Though Tony nodded happily along to the explanation, the perpetually curious child couldn’t help but keep up a steady stream of questions. And it was with no small amount of relief that Gibbs allowed his friend to keep on answering them. 

“How does the baby get in there?” 

Expecting the bespectacled man to give an age-appropriate answer of the sort that involved magic, Gibbs nearly had a heart attack at the very medical answer his child was given. 

“As I said earlier, a man will put his seed into a woman.” Ducky began. “Now, this seed is sort of like an ingredient, as in baking, and a baby cannot be made without it. As such, a man is born with a very special tool for putting that ingredient inside a woman. That tool, as you might know, is the penis.” 

Though Tony cringed a bit at the callous use of such a vulgar word, his curiosity was not yet sated. 

“Where does he put…that though?” He wondered. “Her mouth?” 

Thankfully opting not to launch into a lengthy and unnecessary lecture about fellatio, Ducky stayed on topic and pressed onward with surprising ease. And though Gibbs was still far too uncomfortable to think of much else, he did so vow to get his friend a ticket to a play or something to thank him for doing such thankless work. 

“A man will actually put his penis in a woman’s vagina to get the seed into her.” 

Although Gibbs hadn’t ever spoken to the boy about a woman’s lady parts, he must have surely heard it from someone for he showed no real confusion at the use of the medical word. But, figuring that Abby might be the culprit for that, he felt no real concern over the matter. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“No, not at all.” Ducky readily assured. 

“Oh,” Tony smiled, “Okay.” 

And just like that, his boy was off to play with his building blocks, his ability to flit from what serious topic into a youthful playfulness evoking no small amount of jealousy in his father. 

“I owe you.” Gibbs told the Medical Examiner. “I could have never gotten through that kind of conversation on my own.” 

“Honestly, Jethro, I didn’t explain anything that wasn’t perfectly natural to the human race.” His friend dismissed, an easy smile on his face. “But I suppose you Southerners really are a priggish bunch at times.”

“Says the Brit.” Gibbs retorted, slowly recovering from his mortification. 

Giving a playful roll of his eyes, Ducky looked away from Gibbs to look at the young boy in play, a sudden curiosity of his own showing across his features. 

“I do wonder, however, how such a question ever entered his mind.” 

“Some cartoon, I’d assume.” Gibbs shrugged.


	53. Chapter 53

Although it was only five in the afternoon on a Thursday, Abby inevitably found herself tucked away in her inadequately-sized kitchen as she struggled in vain to salvage the simple supper she had futilely labored over for the last hour. It was with red-hot and bitter teats that she carved away at the charred layers marring her loaves of homemade garlic bread, the pungent smell of burned bread not only serving to make her stomach turn but also serving as a reminder to her of her failure as a partner. Clamping down hard on her bottom lip to keep from crying out aloud, it was with a small tinge of bitterness that she attributed her failure as a chef as one the main factors behind Tim losing all that weight so easily and quickly. After all, how could he not when she was so lousy in the kitchen? 

“My goodness,” Tim announced, strolling blissfully into the cramped kitchen, “It smells delicious in here!” 

Turned away from him to face the stove, still fruitlessly struggling to salvage the bread, Abby chose to forgo her feigned calmness and turned to face her fiancée with a flourish – the evidence of crime still held tightly in her right hand. 

“It doesn’t.” She accused, waggling the damaged breadstick in his face. “It’s burned!” 

And though Abby is never one to shed tears over spilled milk, pregnancy had weakened her naturally sunny disposition and left her a blubbering mess for the past several weeks. It is to Tim’s great credit that he had resolutely managed to take such a jarring change of personalities in stride, his own easy-going nature never once effected save for when he commiserated with Abby as he held her hair back to ease the discomfort of her frequent nightly visits to the toilet. 

“It’s not burned.” Tim smiled, stealing a large bite from the irredeemably burned garlic bread. “That black stuff is just extra flavor.” He deduced, when at last he had managed to chew and force down his throat the damaged bread. 

Now it isn’t just the bread that has made her weepy, but her fiancé’s tenderness as well. 

“It’s burned.” She repeated, throwing herself into his strong arms. 

“Then tell Gibbs I was the one who cooked.” Tim decided, his embrace somehow gentle and strong at the same time. 

Closing her eyes and breathing in a strong whiff of the cologne she had gifted him all those years ago, Abby thanked her lucky stars that God had seen fit to finally grace her with a man who seemed to think she was perfection itself personified. 

“Timothy McGee,” She breathed, sighing the words into his chest, “You have no idea just how much I love you.” 

“If it’s only half as much as I love you, that’s more than enough for me.” 

And just like that he was kissing her, his forever-chapped lips pressing hungrily against the softer and plumper ones belonging to herself. Leaning into the embrace, Abby circled her arms about his head, her face flushing with a pleasant warmth as she let all thoughts of a disastrously cooked supper vanish from her head. There was only Tim now, she thought, Tim and his impossibly strong arms resting gently on the small of her back. Tim and his tongue pressing gently into her inviting mouth, his movements well-practiced and exiting even after all this time. Tim and – 

“If you two are done making out, this ice-cream cake needs to go in the fridge.” Gibbs quipped, gliding into the kitchen without hesitation. 

Reluctantly parting, Tim moved to accept the dessert from his boss’s hands and smiled warmly at Tony as the boy all but flung himself into Abby’s arms. 

“You couldn’t have waited five more minutes, boss?” Tim fake-groused, sticking the brightly-colored box into the fridge.

“With the way you two have been behaving of late, five minutes would have been more than enough time for you two to get yourself into trouble.” 

Wishing to keep the surprise until dessert had been dispensed, Abby quickly hid her blush in Tony’ shoulder and ardently prayed that Tim had found the strength to keep his face neutral if not passive. 

“Why don’t you and Tony take a seat at the table?” Tim suggested. “Abby and I will have the food brought out in a minute.” 

“If you’re not out in five minutes, I’m coming after you.” Gibbs warned, although not at all as severe as normal. 

And though she was not at all as recovered as she wished to be, Abby was all but forced to relinquish Tony back into the custody of his father to avoid casting any further suspicion.


	54. Chapter 54

Although the spaghetti was nearly ice-cold and the garlic bread all but charred beyond recognition, Gibbs still forced himself swallow down every last bite on his plate, so excited and pleased was he to have finally found some non-work-related time to spend with his second favorite agent. And even though he was sure that his enthusiasm would seem, to untrained eyes, to be far less than that of the exuberant Tony’s, Abby somehow seemed to know just how happy he truly was to be seated at her table. 

“You really didn’t need to go to all this fuss just for us.” Gibbs mumbled, gratefully having swallowed down his last bite of bread only moments ago. 

And even though Abby gives him a pointed look that conveys she knows full-well her spread was more akin to those found at dive-bars rather than the four-course meal he was making it out to be, she smiled widely at his patronizing words and leaned across the small table to kiss his cheek. Waiting until the young woman was seated once more, only then did Gibbs use a wrinkled napkin to dab away at the purple lipstick he was certain she’d left on his stubbly cheek. 

“Well, now that everyone is finished, why don’t you tell Tony and I why you really had us over?” 

Never one to consider himself naïve, or patient for all that matter, Gibbs launched into his interrogation abruptly, having neither the skills nor the fortitude to devise a way in which he might question the young couple more politely. But, he justified, it really wasn’t so unforgivably rude he stopped to consider the fact that he already knew what news must be shared. He was no idiot after all, and as a man divorced three times it was all but painfully obvious there had been an engagement announcement in the making for the last few weeks. And though the timeframe in which such a thing seems to occur, Gibbs new deep down that he had no real right to issue forth any real complaints on the matter – not when he knew just how perfect a couple those two were, and especially not when he, himself, had courted, married, and divorced wife number three all within the space of a year. 

But if the young couple in question seemed put out by his customary forthrightness, neither of them showed any signs of displeasure. Rather they seemed almost pleased at such an easy transition, neither of them having evidently known how to go about making such a grand announcement without any ensuing awkwardness and tension. 

“Tim,” Abby breathed, her face suddenly aglow, “Did you want to do it together?” 

And though Tim looked ready to drop dead from sheer anxiety and bliss alone, the happy man still managed a resolute nod before standing from his seat. 

“Why not?” He chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. “We started this whole thing by working together, we might as well finish off strong.” 

Far too happy for her mild glare to have had any real effect on her future-husband, Abby stood to join the grinning man beside her.

It was only when she moved to clasp his hand, that Gibbs finally realized that her pale ring-finger bore no engagement band. And it was with a growing sense of nervous anticipation, as well as a slight twinge of dread, that he eventually realizes he is far too late to intervene and stop the young couple from giving voice to such a status-quo-altering announcement. It is with a small flood of sentimentality that he realizes he might not actually want to. 

“We’re expecting!” The beaming duo announced, the both of them nearly bouncing with excitement. “We’re going to have a baby come spring!” 

Too overwhelmed with the news to react immediately, Gibbs sat stupidly and blinked several times at his two agents as Tony slipped free from his side to wrap his arms about Abby’s neck. 

“Now tell him the bestest part!” Tony pleaded, tugging on Tim’s shirtsleeve. 

Still to stunned to feel even a smidgeon of envy that Tony had clearly been the first to know about the future McGee baby, Gibbs looked helplessly to Abby for assistance. 

“It’s not just one baby.” Abby grinned, holding up two shaking fingers. “It’s two.” 

“Twins.” Gibbs mumbled, finally recovering himself. “That means your having twins.” 

Finally freed from Tony’s grasp when the boy moved to hug Tim, Abby flung herself into Gibbs’s arms and squeezed him tightly – the force of such a hug nearly drawing all the breath from his lungs. But he was far too excited for such an unpleasant sensation to have any real effect, the prospect of being made a pseudo-grandfather of sorts nearly making him dizzy with excitement. 

“Your expert skills of deduction are as right as ever.” Abby chirped in his ear. “Two babies does, in fact, mean I am having twins.” 

“So it wasn’t the milk that made you sick.” Gibbs babbled, never having been any good with expressing sentiments. 

“Well, it certainly didn’t help.” Abby laughed, forgiving him his lack of elegance.


	55. Chapter 55

Much to Tony’s unending delight, Frog Lake had turned out to be very aptly named by whichever uninspired fools had originally discovered it nestles amongst the small horde of weeping willows. With its languid blue waters turned nearly green with the presence of the incessantly hopping amphibians, the peaceful scene was almost something straight out of a Disney film, and Gibbs soon found himself steering his motorized boat much slower than he usually would have – the mere though of running over one of the harmless serenaders all but intolerable to his person when he stopped to consider just how upset his son would be to see such unnecessary carnage. And, as it were, the fat little things were almost amusing to Gibbs as well, their steady croaking and ribbiting providing an all but perfect symphony for the day of fishing ahead of them. 

“Now don’t you go touching any of those things.” Jackson warned Tony, frowning as the boy brushed his fingers against a particularly warty frog. “You’ll go and get yourself warts.” 

Nowhere near alarmed enough to withdraw his fingers, Tony pretended he had not heard his grandfather’s cautioning and grinned widely as the obese frog hopped over his offending hand to move toward the less evasive company of his peers. 

“Ducky told me that was just a myth.” Gibbs informed his father, more conversational than confrontive. 

But even as he gently dismissed his father’s claims without prejudice, Gibbs found himself keeping his hands safely inside the boat, the vague memories of his long-dead mother cautioning him to keep far away from toads and frogs far too powerful a deterrent to disregard. Closing his eyes, for just a brief moment, Gibbs could even swear he heard her gentle voice being carried on the soft breeze. 

“And what would that man know about fishing?” Jackson questioned, not unkindly. “I highly doubt that man has ever been fishing a day in his life.” 

Unable to argue with such an accurate assertion, as he knew all-too-well that Ducky really did prefer spas and brunches to fishing and boats, Gibbs simply shrugged his shoulders and slowly brought the well-maintained boat to a stop in the midst of the small lake. And even though neither of them had ever had the privilege of fishing in such a lake, once glance down at the fish-infested waters assured them that Tim had not been exaggerating in claiming he had once caught an entire score of fish in such pristine waters. 

“Let’s just get started.” Jackson suggested, squinting out at the rising sun. “The best time for fishing only lasts so long, after all.” 

Believing, as all Gibbs men did, that the best time for fishing was the period of day between dawn and morning, Gibbs left his father to bait his own hook as he gently helped Tony tend to his own flamboyantly pink rod. But as Tony adamantly refused to allow a living worm to be used for any such purposes, the work was quick, the time it took to wrangle a colorful lure unto his hook half that which it took his father to get a worm unto his. 

“All set.” Gibbs smiled, inwardly praying that his boy would still manage to catch a fish or two sans bait. “Are you all set to cast out your line?” 

Having spent the majority of that long week practicing the action with his grandfather in their large backyard, Tony nodded eagerly and looked to Gibbs for explicit permission to begin. 

“Go ahead.” Gibbs indulged, tousling the boy’s hair. “Let her fly.” 

Pausing only a moment to spare his father a wide-eyed smile, Tony shifted carefully about in the boat and brought his rod backward with one fluid movement, such a motion far more graceful than either Gibbs or Jackson had ever managed. And then, just like that, the boy’s line was flying in a perfect arch out into the pristinely blue water. 

“God damn!” Gibbs drawled out, unable to stifle the curse. “Where the hell did you learn to cast a line like that?” 

Much too proud of himself to answer in anything more than a falsely-modest shrug, Tony carefully drew in his line a bit, his large green eyes never once leaving the water. 

“I told you that the boy was a natural.” Jackson beamed, a fierce pride on his face. 

“He casts better than Grandma ever did.” Gibbs observed, finally finished with heaping adulations on his beaming child’s head. 

Having finished throwing out his own line, Jackson turned to his son with a confused frown on his wrinkled face. 

“You remember your Grandma Hester?” 

Though he couldn’t really remember all that much about his maternal grandmother, Gibbs swore to all the gods in existence that he could still recall her golden hair and the scent of tobacco clinging to her yellow dress as she tried, and failed, to show him just how to replicate a perfect cast. His mother had been there too, he recalled with a frown, but her butter-soft hands had been too clumsy to hold a rod with any success and she had soon given up the task in favor of letting the sun bathe new freckles unto her impossibly smooth face. 

“Mom was there, too.” Gibbs blathered, his throat suddenly tight as he recalled the flowery perfume coating her pink skirt. “She tried to help me reel in a fish.” It was there that he was forced to swallow down a painful lump in his throat. “But she slipped and tipped the whole kayak over.” 

He couldn’t really recall much after that, save for maybe the sensation of his wet skin being chafed raw by his jeans as they all trudged back, completely fishless, to Grandmother Hester’s dusty, red truck. 

“Your mother never shared that story with me.” Jackson frowned, a sad nostalgia clouding his eyes. 

“Mom was probably embarrassed.” Gibbs supplied, having to force the words out through his constricted throat. “She was usually so good at everything else.” 

It was no exaggeration either, for not only could his mother cook and clean well enough to put Martha Stewart herself to shame, so too could the talented woman sew, sing, garden, and play piano. It was with no small twinge of sadness that Gibbs supposed she had magic kisses, too, her soft lips as useful for kissing away hurts as well as softening the blows of disappointment and heartbreak. 

“That she was.” Jackson agreed, his own voice thick. 

“Mom had a pretty voice.” Gibbs suddenly recalled. “She was singing that day on the boat – and she wouldn’t stop, not even when Grandma warned her it would scare the fish away.” 

And even though it seemed silly now, the toddler Gibbs had remembered thinking his mother’s voice would draw the fish to them rather than scare them away. 

“Grizzly Bear – “Jackson began, hastily abandoning his rod on the floor of the boat. 

“I don’t remember the song, though.” Gibbs had to pause to swallow down a sob. “I’ve tried to remember, but I just can’t.” 

Almost without warning his father’s arms were around him, the pungent smell his overpowered cologne all but assaulting Gibb’s nose and he buried his head in his shoulder and cried for the mother he had lost far too soon. And just like that, moments later, Tony’s arms were ensnaring him as well, the boy’s hold clumsy but no less welcome. 

“I love you a bushel and a peck.” His father suddenly pipped, when at last his only child’s tears had died down to a manageable level. “That was what your mother used to sing to you.” 

Angrily swiping away the drying tears on his reddened cheeks, Gibbs composed himself and tried to pull away from his father, only to be held firmly in place by arms that were still surprisingly strong and full of muscle. 

“How on Earth could you remember such a thing?” His father hummed, rubbing his back a bit. “You were so damn little when she used to do that.” 

His littleness being a very likely reason for his failure to remember any details about the song, Gibbs forgave himself the failing and blinked as his father used his thumb to shoo away the tears he had missed.

“I could sing to you, Papa.” Tony quickly offered, tenderly kissing his reddened cheek. 

Though it was a sweet offer, Gibbs shook his head, all but desperate to not lose the sounds of his mother’s voice in his memories.

“I think you had better get back to your line, instead.” He suggested, glad for an excuse to shoo away the awkwardness that now assaulted him now that his tears were gone. “You’ve got a bite.”


	56. Chapter 56

Gibbs returned from work rather early that Monday afternoon, and soon enough found the other two inhabitants of his house busy in the backyard gutting all the fish they had caught the previous day. More specifically, his father was the one doing all the gutting whilst his grandson sat nearby and played with his barbies in a small pool of muddy water. Figuring the boy to be playing at some sort of spa-experience with the lucky three dolls he had selected, and quickly deciding the small mess could be easily contained before it had a chance to make its way inside, Gibbs magnanimously forgave his father for the harmless negligence and collapsed heavily beside the older man on the small picknick table he was currently using as a work station. 

“Tough day at work, Son?” Jackson questioned, not needing to look away from his gutting to know that his only child was clearly troubled by something. 

Not at all trusting himself to keep his anger in check just yet, Gibbs simply plucked of a particular large fish and used his pocket knife to slice it open with one well-practiced maneuver. Intrinsically understanding that his son was far too agitated for any sort of conversation at the moment, his father allowed such surly behavior to go unchecked and simply moved the large pail he was using as a gut-bin closer between them. 

“I hope you keep that pocket-knife clean, Son.” Jackson gently admonished, clearly trying to goad him into conversation. “I don’t know how well tetanus would pair with Sunnies.” 

“Couldn’t be any worse than the habanero sauce Old Man Crawley liked to pair with his.” Gibbs grunted, angrily popping out the eyes of his victim with his thumbs.

From the corner of his eye, Gibbs saw his father grimace at the use of such a careless method, the older man having never been one to appreciate sloppy workmanship. But rather than swat his son on the rear like he might once have done when his child was an obstinate toddler, Jackson simply shook his head and bit down hard on his calloused bottom lip to keep the scolding at bay. 

“The NCIS is being retired.” Gibbs finally managed, angrily stabbing at an innocent third fish. 

For what was surely the first time in his life, Jackson allowed a knife in his hand to slip from his grasp. Watching the shinning blade shimmer in the sunlight as it fell to the lush grass beneath them, Gibbs might have even thought it amusing had he not been so preoccupied with the approaching loss of his job. 

“Why on Earth would they do such a thing?” His dad demanded, quickly retrieving his fallen knife before a curious Tony could discover it. “You didn’t punch one of your agents, did you?” 

Although Gibbs wasn’t insulted at his father giving voice to such a reasonable assumption, he still frowned when he considered the man knew so very little about his career that he thought one mere instance of workplace violence would be enough to shut the whole thing down. 

“Apparently the government thinks it doesn’t need a specific agency just to deal with navy-related crimes.” Gibbs growled, still desecrating his fish. “I guess they think the FBI is more than enough for that.” 

And despite having always harbored the fear that the goddamn FBI would one day steal his job, despite Ducky’s repeated assertions to the contrary, the blow hadn’t been in any way minimized with the knowing of such a fact. 

“Well,” Jackson frowned, searching for words, “Couldn’t the FBI take you on?” 

Though it was such an innocent question, it was one that made Gibbs finally realize just how strained their relationship had become in the last ten years or so. 

“I wouldn’t go even if they wanted me.” He told his father, hoping the man would understand. 

To his great credit, Jackson did, in fact, seem to understand that such an option would be all but intolerable his son. 

“I’m sure you’ll find some other job suited to your skills.” The older man gently encouraged. “You were a marine, after all.” 

While the sentiment certainly served to make him feel just a tiny bit better, it did but little to quell the anxiety that came with knowing his days at the NCIS were over – and with them, the almost-familial bond he had created with agents over the years. 

“I still have some time to look.” Gibbs sighed, more tired now than angry. “Evidently the government still wants all the cold-case files brought up to date or solved. They’ve offered to put me in charge of the job.” 

And while such a project would take at least two or three years to get through, they had at least been kind enough to provide him the choice of working from home. 

“And then what, Son?” His father pestered, finally snatching the mutilated fish out of his pulverizing hands. 

Setting aside his now useless knife, Gibbs massaged his temples and sighed. 

“I suppose I’ll retire then.” He supplied with a frown. “I’ve been eligible for years now.” 

“You’d get bored out of your mind in two days if you retired.” Jackson dismissed with a small smile. “Why do you think I still run the store at my age?” 

Because it reminds you of your own father, Gibbs wanted to quip. Because you spent the best days of your early marriage working with mom in that store. Because it reminds you of home. 

“You don’t need to worry about that, Dad.” Gibbs assured. “It’ll take me a few years to get through all those casefiles.” 

“Yeah?” Jackson asked, putting a soothing hand on his knee. “What’re the rest of your team going to do though?” 

While it was reassuring for Gibbs to find that his father really did know enough about his son to know that his team would be the main focus of his concern, the anxiety twisted away at his stomach all the same and threatened to incapacitate him. 

“They’re going to allow Kate and Ziva to help me with the cold cases.” Gibbs informed his father. “So at least Ziva won’t be deported back to Israel.” 

“Doesn’t that scrappy little hellcat want to go back?” Jackson queried, unable to understand the concept of someone not wanting to return home. 

“Nobody wants to go back to a warzone, Dad.” Gibbs conjectured. 

Looking a bit embarrassed at his naivety, Jackson cleared his throat and brought the subject back to its origins. 

“What about the others, Leeroy?” His father queried. 

“Ducky decided to retire.” Gibbs supplied, scowling at the though of such an energetic man cooped up in the home his mother had died in. “And the local police commissioner snatched up Jimmy right away to be their new Medical Examiner.” 

Given all the excess education the Autopsy Gremlin had managed to accrue through the years, Gibbs was not at all surprised to find the young man had been recruited so damn quickly. 

“Now what about that young couple you have over all the time – the ones that are expecting a baby soon. What’re they going to do?” 

Suddenly thankful he no longer had a knife in his hands, Gibbs growled like an animal and slammed his hand down hard on the table. 

“The damn FBI is already trying to scout Tim for cybercrimes.” 

Knowing his son well-enough not to dare suggest that such a lucrative offer really wasn’t all that bad, Jackson skipped commentating on McGee and moved right on to Abby. 

“And what about that Goth-Girl of yours?” 

“She’s thinking of helping one her friend run one of her charities, I guess.” 

And so long as Tim found a suitable job, which Gibbs knew the highly-educated man would, the newly-formed McGee family would manage well enough. But still, he frowned, he could not help but worry nonetheless. His team had become a family through the years, after all, and the thought of any of them struggling to get by made his stomach churn. 

“It’ll all work out in the end, Leeroy.” His father promised, patting his back. “God has a plan for everything.”

“Yeah.” Gibbs grunted, allowing the contact. “I just sometimes wish he would take my wishes into consideration.”


	57. Chapter 57

Seeing as Tony had been utterly devastated when his grandfather had left to go back home that Monday morning, Gibbs had quickly set about trying to restore his son’s innate happiness with a little bit of fun outside in the warmth of the summer sun. And while he would have normally recruited Abby and Tim for a little extra assistance for such a high-energy endeavor, he had unexpectantly found himself working along that afternoon as the latter interviewed for a teaching position at a four-year college and the former stayed at home to nap away the fatigue pregnancy seemed to have brought to her.   
As such, Gibbs had found himself quite literally bringing out the big guns. The weapons it question, of course, having been the small collection of brightly-colored water guns he had purchased in secret from Amazon a long while ago for just an occasion. 

Clearly it had been money well spent, as they had been at such old-fashioned play for a good two hours or so before Gibbs finally found he had to call it quits or risk collapsing from sheer exhaustion, himself vexingly finding it no longer easy to peg Tony with his expert marine precision as the boy finally managed to evade the watery streams from his father’s super-soaker. And not knowing any better way in which to accomplish a peaceful cease-fire, Gibbs surrendered his pride and finally allowed his boy to get in a few good shots of his own. 

“I got you!” Tony squealed, expertly pegging him in the center of his chest. “I got you!” 

Looking as proud as Kelly once had on the special occasions Gibbs had allowed the young girl to ‘beat’ him at checkers, Tony beamed widely and landed a finishing blow to his father’s stomach. 

“I’m hit!” Gibbs cried theatrically, bonelessly collapsing unto the soft grass for dramatic emphasis. 

All too giddy for his recent victory, as well a decent measure of adrenaline and sugar, Tony all but choked on his laughter as he let himself fall on his butt beside his winded father. And though the laughter was, indeed, quite infectious, Gibbs wisely began to reason that it would perhaps be best to wind the boy down sooner rather than later, as bedtime would be upon them before too very long.   
And figuring that there really was no better way in which to do such a thing than a quick round, or two, of hide-and-seek, Gibbs sluggishly rose to his feet and helped his boy rise to his own with one strong hand.

“How about a quick round of hide-and-seek, Champ?” 

Despite having never gotten around to playing such a classic children’s game outside, Gibbs figured such an activity would be safe enough as the neighborhood was safe and the backyard entirely fenced in. 

“Okay!” Tony readily agreed, still chock-full of energy. “Count to four!” 

“Got it.” Gibbs humored, bringing his hands up to hide his eyes. 

Ever the hyperactive and imaginative creature, Gibbs was not at all surprised when he began to hear the tell-tale signs of Tony pattering back and forth between differing ends of the yard in search of the ‘perfect’ hiding spot. As it was, his only real complaints stemmed from the fact that it was absurdly difficult to stretch out his counting to four into a more generous time frame. 

“Papa!”

Jerking back into hyper-awareness as Tony’s alarmed cry reached his ears, Gibbs jerked his hands from his eyes and nearly tripped over himself as he scrambled to reach the large bush his child was cowering in front of. Parental instincts kicking in, he then seized his boy by the arm and pulled him to stand safely behind his back, fearing that there might be a rabid racoon within just waiting to rip half his son’s face off. 

“Stay back.” Gibbs cautioned Tony, grabbing up a large stick. 

Knowing, rather than hoping, that his well-behaved boy would obey, Gibbs then took a fortifying breathe before jabbing his makeshift weapon into the thick bush. But when that action did nothing other than provoke a feeble rustling of the branches, as well as a small growl, Gibbs sighed and got down on his knees. Very clearly there was a half-dead racoon hiding in the darkness, and very clearly it was in need of a mercy killing. 

“Stay back, now.” Gibbs warned, carefully parting the thorny branches.

Having fully expected to find a foam-mouthed racoon dying in the safety of the darkness, Gibbs was more than just a little taken off-guard when he found a small, gray kitten instead. But rather than be of the cuter pet-quality variety, this runty thing was missing great patches of fur as well as half its face – a nasty, infected burn having eaten away at both flesh and green eyeball.   
“Goddamn it.” He sighed, already knowing what Tony’s reaction would be. 

“Can we keep him?!” 

Though Gibbs thought it would be far more kind to put the miserable little beast out of its misery straight away, he found he just didn’t have to heart to with Tony’s wide eyes boring holes into his heart. His resolve only further faltered when the flea-ridden cat managed to lift its head well enough to lick at his fingers. 

“Get in the truck.”


	58. Chapter 58

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just realized, I had nowhere near enough Gibbs/Ducky interaction!

Despite Gibbs’s constant assurances to anyone who would listen, the number of those people being but few, that the goddamn cat he had been coerced in rescuing was, in fact, his son’s, Zuko seemed to have developed a contrary view to that particular notion and had almost immediately set out to disabuse him of such a silly concept. For not only did the mangy-beast outright refuse to sleep with the toddler that had pleaded for his life, favoring instead the inconvenient location directly atop Gibbs’s pillow, so too did the stubborn creature all but refuse to eat if he was not within her view at all times. And while those two caveats were certainly vexing enough for a man as impatient as himself, the thrice-damned thing all but outdid herself by steadfastly refusing to take her antibiotics without first being given a humble plea to do so. 

“Look, you little bastard.” Gibbs negotiated, glaring down the cat seated on his kitchen table. “I don’t like this anymore than you do. But it has to be done.” 

With a glower that seemed to very much convey, ‘fuck you,’ the toddler-named Zuko turned her furry chin up at him and sniffed dismissively, her green eye all but gleaming with malice as she sniffed a second time for emphasis. 

“Why do you have to be so goddamn difficult?” Gibbs growled at the cat, speaking softly so that he would not awaken the child sleeping upstairs. “I saved your life, you little ingrate.” 

Chirping what were surely a series of swears at him, the obstinate cat simply blinked her one good eye at him. 

“This antibiotic is the only thing keeping your good eye healthy.” Gibbs warned the priggish cat. “You don’t want to go blind, do you?” 

That tactic only earned him a snobbish meow in response, as well as a prissy twitching of a matted tail. It was then, and only then, that Gibbs finally realized he was defeated and surrendered. 

“Fine.” He scowled, giving into the cat’s caprices. “Would you please come and take your antibiotic?” 

Seeming to gloat as she smirked openly at him, the little gray terrorist padded across the table to sit expectantly in front of him. 

“My word, Jethro.” Came Ducky’s voice behind him. “I never did think I’d live to see the day you let a kitten master you.” 

Having no way in which he might talk himself out of such embarrassment, Gibbs simply shrugged as he carefully inserted the liquid medicine into his cat’s nearly-toothless mouth via syringe. 

“I’ve already allowed Tony to.” Gibbs sighed. “Why not the cat?” 

“Tony had you wrapped around his fingers long before his accident.” Ducky countered, taking a seat at the table. “The cat, however, is a new addition.” 

Not wanting to admit to the Medical Examiner, or himself, just how attached he had gotten to the intolerable beast in the space of four days, Gibbs schooled his pace into a mask of passivity and shrugged again. 

“For now.” 

“For good.” Ducky rebuttled. “You adore that thing.” 

Unable to deny it with any success, Gibbs glared darkly at his friend. 

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll have your tongue removed.” 

Unmoved by the heatless threat, Ducky grinned victoriously and placed the six-pack of craft beer he had brought along unto the table. 

“I don’t believe Hamish would thank you for that.” The bespectacled man cautioned, cracking open a beer for himself as well as Gibbs. 

Having had several bad experiences when it came to sampling the other man’s craft beer, Gibbs had to force himself to be polite and take a sip of the foreign brew. To say that he was relieved when his tongue didn’t protest violently, or his gut, would have been an understatement. 

“Is that the name of your new man?” Gibbs grunted, once he was sure his stomach would not expel the beer. 

“It is.” The Medical Examiner agreed, all but beaming. 

Though they were well past the age of school children, Gibbs couldn’t help but think of a schoolboy in love for the first time as he looked at his friend. 

“Where’d you find this one?” He pressed, more concerned than curious. 

For while Ducky was certainly the furthest thing from naïve when it came to judging people, the unpleasant fact still remained that his previous, and first, boyfriend had been a big enough bastard to make Gibbs look soft in comparison. 

“I do believe I have Jimmy to thank for that.” Ducky explained, his eyes taking on a sentimental twinkle as he launched into his narrative. “We went walking in the park one fine morning, and it seemed the young man was rather suddenly interested in taking a completely different route than usual.” There he paused for a breath, his smile as wide as ever Gibbs had seen it. “I indulged him, of course, thinking nothing of it, but soon we came across a field of men playing a game of cricket and I knew what Jimmy had done.” 

“Jimmy set you up with one of the players.” Gibbs decided, surprised that such a timid man had found the courage to do so. 

“Yes, it would seem that he and Hamish had been setting up that meeting for ages.” 

Though the outright sappiness of such a narrative made him queasy, Gibbs couldn’t help but be a little jealous when he stopped to think of just how awkward his first meeting with Shannon had been. 

“Are all Scots so cheesy?” Gibbs ribbed. 

Giving him a long-suffering sigh, Ducky rolled his eyes and set about mildly scolding him for his ignorance. 

“He is not Scottish, he’s English.” The taller man lectured. “And before you even to think to ask it again, there most certainly is a difference.” 

“If you say so.” Gibbs heckled, shrugging his shoulders in a playfully dismissive manner. 

While Ducky would have normally launched into a small tirade about the many differences between the two countries, paying particular focus on how Britain had shamefully colonized Scotland, he did not do so now. Seeing his long-standing friend swoon, Gibbs almost wished that he would have gone off on a tangent. 

“He’s perfect, Jethro.” Ducky sighed. “That man actually listens to my stories in their entirety and doesn’t ever cut me off.” 

“So does Jimmy.” Gibbs reminded the man, not liking the sudden turn of their conversation. 

“Jimmy is my boy, this is different.” Ducky calmly dismissed. 

Though he really did not wish to encourage such a sappy conversation to continue, Gibbs forced himself to play his part as he understood, without a doubt, that Ducky really didn’t enjoy his conversations about wood-working anymore than he did stories of romance. 

“So he listens to your stories.” Gibbs parroted. “What else makes him so perfect?” 

“You’ll never believe this, but Hamish actually asks follow-up questions, too.” 

Not believing such a person could ever exist, Gibbs nearly choked on his swallow of ridiculously-expensive beer. 

“Good God, Duck. You have to marry this man straight away.” 

Though it was most certainly a joke, Ducky glowed at the suggestion as a bright blush colored his cheeks. 

“I would, if he asked.” 

“You really are in love, aren’t you?” Gibbs mused, shaking his head. 

“I suppose I must be.” Ducky readily agreed, still aglow with the though of marriage. 

“You aren’t sure?” He razzed. 

Having meant the remark to be light-hearted in nature, Gibbs was caught off-guard when Ducky scowled at him. 

“Well, I really wasn’t allowed to let myself be in love until Mother passed, Jethro.” 

The octogenarian being from a generation far more old-fashioned than even his father’s, Victoria had been known to have a certain vendetta against the nefarious gays polluting her country. And while she must have certainly suspected her son of such a crime, her repeated attempts to toughen him up via forced indoctrination into sports, the woman had loved Ducky well enough to pretend he was as straight as any other man – such denial essential for both their well-beings. 

“I’m sure this is love, though.” Ducky quickly asserted, catching the shock on Gibbs’s face. “It must be.” 

Willing to forgive the man for his unearned scowl, Gibbs gagged and shook his head. 

“Don’t go getting knocked up now.” He lectured the man. “I can’t handle two hormonal people at the same time I have a toddler.” 

As the pink blush on Ducky’s cheeks turned an ugly red, Gibbs laughed and easily dodged the befuddled man’s clumsy headslap. 

“Don’t make me sic Hamish on you.” 

“I’m not afraid of a cricket player.” Gibbs snorted. “What is he, 120 pounds?” 

Though he had never watched such a game in his life, Gibbs knew it was a discount version of baseball. As such, it only stood to reason that the players weren’t as jacked as their baseball-playing counterparts.

“Hamish is 6’5 and 250 pounds.” Ducky proudly corrected. “He dwarfs you.” 

Not wishing to give voice to the alarm that gave him, as it was not often he met men that sized, Gibbs set about to lighten the mood. 

“There’s no need to brag, Duck. You’ve clearly got yourself the best boyfriend between the two of us.” 

“Jethro – “ 

“Look,” Gibbs sighed, “I’m happy for you, I am. But…Isn’t this the sort of stuff you talk to Abby and Kate about?” 

Looking very put out, Ducky frowned deep enough to make Gibbs feel like a total asshole. 

“Abigail is off with Timothy doing God knows what, and Caitlyn is off on a date with that Seamus fellow of hers.” 

“Again?” Gibbs frowned. “Isn’t this the fifth time this week?” 

“Yes.” Ducky agreed. “It seems our Caitlyn is quite smitten with her beau.” 

Nearly panicking as he began to think of all the weddings he would surely be soon attending, Gibbs wondered just how moral it would be to convince the couples in questions to elope. 

“She can be smitten all she wants.” Gibbs allowed. “But she had better not plan on getting married this calendar year. I can only afford so many bread-makers, Duck.” 

Though he had more than enough money squirreled away to be just fine, the joke still landed with an amused looking Ducky. 

“Don’t be silly now, Jethro. Caitlyn would never register for a bread-maker when she can just go to the store and buy a loaf.” The love-sick man teased. “No doubt she would register for a foot message instead.” 

“And what about you, Duck, what will you register for?” 

Not even missing a beat, Ducky smiled and gave a quick answer. 

“When Hamish and I get married, we will not have any need for a registry. I do believe at our age we already have everything we might need.” 

“Before we start getting into wedding planning, remind me again how long you’ve been seeing this guy.” 

“Five months, two weeks, and six days.” 

Despite having gone through three wives in the space of a decade, Gibbs couldn’t help but heckle his friend a bit. 

“Not even half a year and you’re already thinking marriage?” 

“Why wait at our age?” Ducky returned. 

Seeing as divorce was a viable option nowadays, Gibbs held his peace and moved along to a more pressing matter. 

“You do understand that if this guy fucks with you like that last one did, I’m actually going to have to kill him, yes?” 

As it was, it had only been Abby and Tony’s fervid pleading that had stayed his hand from strangling the man who had cheated on Ducky. 

“It won’t come to that.” Ducky quickly assured. “As I’ve already told you, this man is perfect.” 

“But – “ 

“Alright fine.” Ducky sighed. “He’s very nearly perfect.” 

“Good.” Gibbs sighed. “I’d hate to be in prison for Abby’s wedding.” 

“You won’t be.” Ducky promised. “Because I have a surefire way in which we might prevent such homicidal shenanigans.” 

Even without the pointed look he was being given, Gibbs knew his friend well enough to know when he was asking for a favor. 

“Oh?” 

“I thought you might come to supper tomorrow night with us.” Ducky began. “Just so you might get a good feel of Hamish.” The man quickly added, catching sight of Gibbs’s incredulous look. 

“If this man is so perfect, why would that be necessary?” 

As much as Gibbs enjoyed the man’s company, the thought of dining at a restaurant whose food he could neither eat nor pronounce did not amuse him. 

“We both know I am a sentimental man, Jethro.” Ducky admitted. “It might just be that you sense something in him that I couldn’t. And, in doing so, save me a bit of a heartache.” 

Though he knew Ducky was using the last disaster of his boyfriend to guilt him into accepting, Gibbs would have done so without that manipulation. 

“Fine.” 

“Good!” Ducky beamed. “I’ve made reservations for tomorrow at 8.” 

“That’s a little late.” Gibbs frowned. “What am I going to do with Tony?” 

Never one to leave any stone unturned when it came to seeing a plan fulfilled, Ducky brushed away the concerns with a reassuring smile. 

“Abigail and Timothy have already agreed to babysit.” 

“I don’t want Tony around their house when their renovated that room into a nursery.” Gibbs stipulated. “It’s hard enough to keep him out of the goddamn basement without a lock.” 

Even though he sounded overly-cautious to himself, Gibbs didn’t even want to imagine how much mischief a bored Tony could get up into a house full of tools and exposed wires. 

“Fret not, Jethro. They’ve agreed to come here and babysit.” 

“Duck,” Gibbs groaned, “Those two are going to fuck on my couch.” 

Grimacing at the vulgarity, and perhaps the thought as well, Ducky shook his head in denial. 

“Not with Tony around, they won’t.” The man reasoned. “They would make use of another room for sure.” 

Seeing such a thing as only marginally better, Gibbs glowered at the Medical Examiner. 

“You owe me.” 

“I’ll buy your supper.” Ducky bargained. 

Not willing to let the man off so easily, Gibbs grinned evilly. 

“I’m going to make you regret that offer.” 

Unphased, Ducky shrugged. 

“It will have been worth it.” 

They lapsed into a tentative silence then, Ducky pleased with his victory and Gibbs bemoaning his fate. 

“Jethro?” 

Already dreading what was to come, Gibbs swallowed down the last of his beer and closed his eyes. 

“Yes?” 

“Supper will be a very formal affair.” 

With a scowl, Gibbs snapped his eyes open to glower at his friend. 

“I’m ordering dessert.” 

“Of course.”


	59. Chapter 59

Having finally been blessed with an evening in which she didn’t feel the irrepressible urge to vomit up everything she had eaten that morning, Abby snuggled closely to Tim and rested her head on his broad shoulder. Seeming to want her to be ever closer than she already was, the future father of his child wrapped one strong arm about her shoulders, his smile of an enamored nature as he planted a gentle kiss to her exposed temple. Thusly encouraged, the amorous man then slipped his free hand up her shirt, his warm fingers wriggling presumptively toward her braless and overly tender breasts. 

“Tim,” Abby warned, quickly stilling his fingers, “If you even think about touching my breasts right now, I will literally geld you in your sleep.” 

While it pained Abby to be so aggressive, she felt such a strict warning necessary as her breasts were far too sore for even a bra to touch them without significant discomfort. It was with a barely repressed shudder that she considered the damage a pair of groping hands could do to them. Fortunately for the both of them, Tim especially, her fiancé seemed to take the refusal in stride.

“Understood.” Tim readily assured, yanking his large fingers free from her blouse. 

Feeling pity for her thwarted beau, Abby snatched up his hand before he could return it to the armrest of the couch. Sensing the excitement coursing through her partner’s vein at such a simple contact, she then gave Tim her most seductive smile and steered his fingers toward the lower part of her body she had earlier concealed with a yellow blanket. 

“Abby.” Tim breathed, his breath hot on her ear. “We can’t.” 

Refusing to take no for an answer, Abby nibbled playfully at his neck and brought her hands to rest on his lap. 

“We can.” She insisted, in between bites. 

Thus declared, she seamlessly slipped her hands up his lap, her fingers edging dangerously close to the organ that rested betwixt his legs. 

“Not on Gibbs’s couch.” Tim stipulated, tensing up as he fought worked to fight a losing battle. 

“He doesn’t have to know.” Abby promised, planting a kiss on his stubbly chin. 

Succumbing to another well-placed kiss on the crook of his neck, Tim shuddered violently and ceased trying to push her fingers away from his manhood. Encouraged by his sudden lack of restraint, as well as thrilled by the look in his eyes, Abby felt a tingle of her own race through her body as she set about nibbling at his ear. 

“The baby!” Tim suddenly spluttered, bolting upright and nearly knocking her to the floor. 

Eyes still closed, Abby giggled softly and resumed her nuzzling. 

“The baby is asleep.” She reminded her partner, taking in a deep breath of his cologne. 

“The baby is awake, actually.” Tim gently correctly. 

Reasonably alarmed at the knowing tone her boyfriend was now using, Abby reluctantly brought her face away from his neck and turned on the couch to investigate. It was with a pitiful squeak, as well as a small sense of dread, that she saw Tony – a very curious look on his face as he stared at them with honest confusion. 

“What’re you doing?” Tony pestered, frowning openly at them. 

Not having the mental capacity to explain away their innocent necking to a nosy toddler, especially not when she was so infected with pregnancy-brain, Abby floundered and desperately began to contemplate bribing him into silence with a generous portion of ice-cream. 

“We were watching a movie!” Tim provided, recovering first as he scooted to the far end of the couch. 

Sparing a quick glance at the television to see that The Avengers was, in fact, paused, Tony turned back to them with a very Gibbs-like glare. 

“Abby bitted your ear.” Tony accused, looking reproachfully at the culprit. 

Mortified beyond belief, as well as words, Tim colored brightly and looked to Abby for salvation. 

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” 

Although she had tried her hardest to use an authoritative tone of voice, the toddler seemed entirely unaffected he shrugged his broad shoulders. 

“I woked up.” Tony explained with a frown. “Can I watch the movie with you?” 

The very minute the man-child turned his doe-eyes unto them, Abby knew that all attempts at resistance would be futile and sighed in surrender. She could only hope that the boy would be amendable to getting back to bed before Gibbs arrived, elsewise she might soon have to deal with yet another Gibbs-glare.

“Yeah, sure.” Tim sighed, making the call for her. 

“Hooray!” Tony squealed, plunking himself directly in between them. 

Sharing a long-suffering frown his fiancée over Tony’s shoulders, Tim reluctantly picked up the remote and started up the movie they had never quite gotten around to watching. 

“Hooray.” Tim echoed, glancing longingly at Abby. 

Blissfully unaware of the physical wedge he had put between his two amorous babysitters, Tony beamed brightly and snuggled up close to Abby, his green eyes all but wide as saucers as he stared at the screen. Clearly unable to resist the boy’s irresistible charm, she couldn’t help but smile as Tim quickly forgave the toddler his intrusion and wrapped the blanket over his frame. Smiling at the small act of kindness, as well as seeming to revel in it, Tony grabbed up Tim’s hand his own and held tight to it.

They sat that way for a good half-hour, neither of them speaking for fear of ruining the bonding moment they seemed to have effortlessly created. In fact, aside from a few casual glances at Abby, Tony remained perfectly still up until the movie began to pick up in action. 

“Abby?” Tony suddenly asked. “Does your uderous hurt?” 

As Tony blinked innocently at her, and Tim choked on his pop, Abby once more contemplated using the promise of sweets to avoid such an awkward conversation. Because even if Gibbs did get a bit upset upon his return to find a sugar-hyped toddler, surely that would be a better experience than an all-too-curious Tony pestered him about questions pertaining to a woman’s birthing bits. 

“What are you talking about, sweetie?” Abby finally asked, hoping against hope that she had simply misheard him. 

“There.” Tony stressed, shamelessly poking at her still-flat belly. “Where the babies live.” 

Deducing that Ducky must have been the guilty party whereas the discussion of her uterus was involved, as Gibbs very likely couldn’t even pronounce the word without stammering, Abby sighed and resolved to make the Medical Examiner live to regret such an inconvenient education. 

“No, Tony.” She quickly assured, hoping to put a quick end to the conversation. “My uterus doesn’t hurt. Not a bit.” 

But, of course, with Tony being an inquisitive toddler and all, that was really only the beginning of the conversation. 

“Is there room for both?” Tony pestered, quickly lifting up her blouse to stare at her now exposed abdomen. 

Understandably scandalized at the presumptuous behavior, Abby swiftly swatted his rogue hands away and yanked her blouse back to were it belonged. 

“You’re not to do that again.” Abby scolded, firm but gentle. “And, yes, there is plenty of room in there for both of them.” 

Though he had frowned considerably at having his hands so rudely slapped away, Tony’s curiosity won out as he gazed unabashedly at her stomach. 

“How?” 

“My belly will grow as the babies do.” Abby explained.

Looking highly relieved, Tony smiled widely and put his babysitters prematurely at ease. 

“So you won’t explode?” 

“No, Tony.” Tim chuckled, finally recovered. “She won’t explode.” 

His curiosity thus sated, at least for the time being, Tony turned back to the television and happily took in the scenes of the Avengers assembling. Gradually falling into a sense of security as well, Abby resumed her own viewing, vastly relieved that she had not been forced to go into vivid detail about child birthing. 

“Abby?” 

Fighting to keep the sigh inside her body, Abby closed her eyes to fortify herself, already dreading the next question to come. 

“Yes, Tony?” 

“How do the babies get out?” 

This time it was Abby’s turn to be stunned into silence. 

“Uh, didn’t Ducky tell you?” Tim asked, looking ready to bolt from the room. 

“Nope.” 

And even though she was the one to have answered all the awkward questions thus far, Abby took it upon her to answer this latest one in way of protecting Tim’s sensibilities. Although, looking back later on it that night, she would most surely wish she hadn’t blurted out the first thing that came to mind. 

“The doctor will cut them out.” She babbled, knowing as she spoke that it was already the wrong answer. 

To her great regret, as well as dismay, Gibbs strolled into the living room right as Tony launched into a horrific round of wailing. Red-faced and quickly breathless, the toddler stared as dolefully at Abby as if she had just pronounced she was about to perish in the next few hours, working himself into such a tizzy that he did not even realize his father had returned until the man’s strong arms were wrapping themselves around him. 

“I was gone for three hours.” Gibbs sighed, looking slightly tipsy. “What could you have possibly done to make his this upset?” 

“Abby is going to be cutted open!” Tony tattled, sobbing inconsolably. 

Utterly perplexed, Gibbs murmured soothing words into his child’s ears as he looked expectantly at them. 

“He asked how babies got out.” Abby confessed with a grimace.

“And?” 

“And I told him they got cut out.” Tim lied, taking the fall for her. 

Though Gibbs was clearly trying to glare at Tim, his clear drunkenness prevented the expression from having any real power. 

“My God, McGee, you’re a goddamn writer and you couldn’t think of anything more creative to tell him?” 

“Sorry, Boss.” Tim apologized, throwing up his hands. 

Apparently not anywhere near angry enough to further expand upon his scolding, Gibbs turned his focus unto Tony and gently cupped the boy’s face in his hands. 

“Listen to me, Monkey. Abby is going to be just fine.” He slurred. “Babies don’t get cut out of people unless it’s a real emergency. Tim was just teasing you.” 

Sparing a quick glare for Tim, Tony wiped his nose on the sleeve of his footed pajamas and sniffled loudly. 

“How do they get out, then?” 

Though Tim was not so foolish as to give voice to the vindication he felt at seeing his boss falter at the same question he had been scolded for answering poorly, the look on his face conveyed that fact well enough. 

“You know what, that’s a good question for Ducky.”


	60. Chapter 60

As it soon turned out, Ducky had been by no means exaggerating when he had informed Gibbs of his current boyfriend’s size and stature. If anything, the Medical Examiner had been underexaggerating. For rather than the modest 6’5 his oldest friend had claimed him to be, Hamish was much more accurately nearer to 6’8 or 6’9. But rather than lord his beast-like size over his fellow peers, something he could have very easily done, the red-headed Brit was as polite as royalty when he stood to shake Gibbs’s hand in greeting. 

“You must be Jethro.” The bearded man grinned, his accent perfectly noticeable with those few words alone. “How very nice it is to meet you.” 

Willing to shrug away the stranger’s all-too-familiar use of his given name, simply to avoid having a row with Ducky, Gibbs nodded and accepted the man’s handshake – pleased to find that while it was firm, it was by no means bone-crushing, as he had no idea how well he would be able to handle a hyperactive Tony with just one working hand. 

“Yeah.” Gibbs grunted, feeling helplessly out of place. “Nice to meet you, too.” 

Already vastly uncomfortable with being trussed up in a suit and tie, Gibbs’s social anxieties only increased exponentially as he took in the poised and elegant looks of all the other patrons dining at the exclusive five-star establishment he’d been all but coerced into visiting. 

“It is rather stuffy in here, is it not?” Hamish quipped, immediately seeming to sense his troubles. 

“It’s not to my taste.” Gibbs shrugged, planting himself in a chair that was far more ornate than comfortable. 

Taking his own seat with far more poise than Gibbs thought possible, Hamish grinned openly at him and cross his legs beneath the table, very nearly upsetting the furniture as his knees knocked against the wooden underside. 

“This place isn’t my cup of tea, either, between the two of us.” Hamish confided, his tone taking on a conspiratorial natured. “But, alas, Ducky loves this place, and who am I to deny that many anything?” 

A bit uncomfortable with the sudden sappiness, Gibbs picked up the napkin nestled before him and tugged at the intricate folds, frowning as he considered just how time-consuming and wasteful making one of those damn swans would be. It was only when he felt Hamish’s brown eyes boring into him, that he suddenly remembered his manners and abandoned the now irredeemably mangled swan back amongst his comrades. 

“Is Ducky running late?” Gibbs obliged, glancing at his watch. 

Having no doubt become acclimated to his boyfriend’s constant tardiness, Hamish chuckled a bit at the innocent question. 

“Considering the fact that I was the one to drive, we arrived early for once.” The jovial Brit confided, no trace of censure in his voice. “You arrived just as Ducky nipped it off to the bog, I’m afraid.” 

While he had certainly become accustomed to quite a few snippers of Scottish slang over his long years of friendship with Ducky, Gibbs had absolutely no idea just what Hamish was referring to. Very clearly his face had conveyed just such a fact, as well, for Hamish frowned sheepishly and immediately set about to clarifying things for him. 

“Ducky went to ‘visit the head,’ as you Americans might say.” 

Not familiar with hearing such guttural jargon uttered with a British flair, Gibbs smirked and shook his head in a bemused fashion. 

“That’s more of a military thing, really.” 

“Oh, yes, that’s right.” Hamish quipped. “You were a marine, were you not?” 

Not wanting to launch into a lengthy diatribe about how marines never really stopped being marines, as Hamish didn’t seem the appropriate audience for such, Gibbs gave the man a curt nod. 

“Yeah, I was a gunny.” 

Frowning a bit at the unfamiliar term, Hamish leaned back in his chair and eyed Gibbs with unaffected curiosity 

“Forgive me my interrogations, Jethro, but does that mean you dealt largely with guns.” 

Promptly remember that Ducky’s new beau was fully British at the line of questioning, as no trueborn American would see so flabbergasted at the mere concept of guns, Gibbs braced himself for an argument on gun control that never came. 

“Yeah.” Gibbs scowled. “I dealt with a whole bunch of them.” 

To say that he was taken a little off-guard by the taller man’s subsequent grin would have been an understatement. 

“How fascinating!” Hamish quipped, eyes all aglow. “I always have wanted to shoot off a gun, you know.” 

“You’ve never shot a gun?” Gibbs snorted. 

Having been born and raised in Pennsylvania, such a concept seemed to Gibbs to be near akin to blasphemy. 

“I will remind you that I am from Britain.” Hamish retorted. “And no, I’ve never had the opportunity to shoot off a gun. To be quite honest, I’ve never even seen such a weapon in person.” 

Failing see how a person living in America could go even a few months without at least seeing a gun in person, if not up close than by afar, Gibbs couldn’t help but launch into a minor investigation of the matter. 

“You haven’t been in America for very long, have you?” 

“Quite right.” Hamish readily agreed. “I’ve only been here half a year or so.” 

Seeing as Gibbs had quickly taken a liking to the muscular man, having not found him to be anywhere near as prissy as he had earlier imagined he would be, Gibbs decided to extend the Brit an offer of friendship. 

“I’ll tell you what, Hamish.” Gibbs bargained. “If you can get your boyfriend to tag along, I promise to take you shooting.” 

Having long ago been forced into a routine of watching the Olympics every four years by said Medical Examiner, particular the figure-skating and gymnastic segments, Gibbs reasonably figured it was high-time he finally get his weapon-skittish friend around a gun. 

“I would just love that.” Hamish quickly agreed. “Just so long as it doesn’t interfere with my draft picks, that is.” 

“They have fantasy leagues for cricket?” Gibbs questioned, unable to fight off a snort. 

Ducky could scold him for his derision all he wanted later on, but Gibbs would not budge on his belief that such a league would be absurd and a complete waste of time for all involved. 

“I imagine they do.” Hamish provided with a shrug. “But I was speaking of American football, Jethro.” 

Taking it as a good sign that Ducky’s new boyfriend was apparently not quick to anger, even with having his culture ridiculed, Gibbs gradually felt himself relax in the other man’s presence. But rather than allow himself to convey such to a man that was a relative stranger, he simply settled for razzing the Brit a bit. 

“Don’t tell me you like the Packers.” He stipulated, the statement more an order than a plea. 

“Oh, Heavens no.” Hamish readily assured. “You’ll find that I support the much-superior Vikings.” 

Taking issue that the man seemed more than happy to support a substandard team, Gibbs raised an unamused brow in his direction. 

“What can I say, Jethro?” Hamish laughed. “I came late to the American football craze and fell in love with the underdogs.” 

“You don’t really hedge your bets on them, do you?” 

While he himself was a staunch loyalist to his precious Steelers, Gibbs knew better than to rely on them for anything other than entertainment if he wished to keep his pride intact.

“Fret not, Jethro. I hedge by bets with hope, not with money.” 

“Yeah, that’s probably wise.” Gibbs readily agreed. 

It was with no small amount of amusement that he thought of McGee then, specially a pre-Abby McGee, and all the money had subsequently lost by being stupid enough to gamble against an adult Tony whereas sports were involved. 

“Ah, Jethro!” Ducky grinned, effectively pulling Gibbs back into reality. “I see you have already had the privilege of becoming acquainted with Hamish. How very pleasant!” 

Beaming sickeningly at the newly-returned Medical Examiner, Hamish jumped to his feet to pull out a chair for his boyfriend. 

“He’s alright.” Gibbs agreed, trying not to squirm as he watched Hamish peck Ducky on the cheek. 

Not deflating like most people would have done upon hearing his boyfriend’s closest friend considered him only to be alright, Hamish promptly reseated him and focused his dark eyes unto Ducky’s. 

“I must say, Love, I do quite enjoy the company of this man.” Hamish prattled, seizing hold of Ducky’s hands. “Not only has he been perfectly polite, but he’s offered to take us shooting as well.” 

Despite having become quickly befuddled by all the fuss being paid to him, Ducky’s enamored smile didn’t last long when the mention of guns came up. 

“Well,” Ducky frowned, almost petulantly, “You are most certainly welcome to do so by yourself.” 

“Sorry, Love, but you seem to be a part of the package deal.” 

Though the Medical Examiner seemed to want to do nothing more than give into the love of his life, the bespectacled man impressively held his ground. 

“You know I have no love of guns, Hamish.” 

His fond smile never once wavering, the indomitable Brit held his ground as well. 

“Love, I spent four hours with you last Saturday looking over paint swatches.” He gently reminded. “Will you not at least come and watch me take my first shot?” 

It was as Ducky bit down on his bottom lip, that Gibbs knew he was lost. 

“Oh, I suppose I could give it the old college try.”


	61. Chapter 61

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is a long chapter just for you, my lovelies!

Deciding a local Applebees would be far more accommodating to their size and temperaments than the stuffy four-star restaurants they had been forced to endure whilst on their hellish ‘vacation,’ Gibbs had decided to round up his team for supper at the establishment with the best reviews for a much-needed evening of comradery. Having been the first to arrive with Tony, as well as a tag-along Kate, he had even gone so far as to tell their waitress that all the drinks and dessert shared that night were to go on his tab. After that, it was only a matter of waiting before the chronically late Ducky arrived with Jimmy and a harried Ziva – the latter’s car having inexplicably popped a tire a mile from work. 

“Papa,” Tony whinged, when after ten minutes had passed without any signs of either Tim or Abby, “I’m starving.” 

“People in Africa are starving.” Gibbs corrected, not unkindly. “Here.” 

Wisely having assumed that at least one member of his now-extinct team would be late to the affair, in particular Ducky, Gibbs fished a small packet of goldfish crackers from the inside pocket of his jacket and passed the snack over to his boy. Thanking his father profusely, as there were few ‘treats’ the boy loved more than those cheddar abominations, Tony smiled widely and promptly set to digging in. 

“You’ll spoil his appetite.” Ziva warned, scooting away from the crumb-zone. 

Giving the Israeli a warning look, Gibbs turned back to studying his menu. 

“There is nothing in this world that could spoil that boy’s appetite.” Ducky quipped, taking up the gauntlet of scolding for his dearest friend. “In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I would dare say young Anthony has Prader-Willis Syndrome.” 

Gibbs, as well as the rest of his dining companions, were thankfully spared any detailed explanation of such a disorder by the subsequent arrival of Tim and Abby – or, as Kate had so recently dubbed them, McAbby.

“Professor McGee,” Kate crooned, “Arrived at last.” 

“WITH his lovely girlfriend.” Abby amended, kissing her beau on the cheek. 

Needlessly helping his pregnant girlfriend into a chair, Tim grinned bashfully and awkwardly seated himself in one of his own, very nearly missing his target as he fumbled over his shoes. 

“Would you guys stop with the whole ‘professor’ thing.” The embarrassed man pleaded, looking a bit red in the cheeks. “It’s not like I’m teaching at any ivy-league school.” 

Seeing as Tim’s modest was of a genuine nature, Gibbs was more than just a little willing to let it go unchecked. The Israeli sitting to his right, however, was not. 

“But you are not just teaching at a high-school either.” Ziva acknowledged. 

Quickly becoming more unsettled with so much attention being payed his way, Tim quickly buried his head in his menu. 

“Why are we only focusing on me?” The father-to-be groused. “Jimmy also found a really good job.” 

Taken off-guard by the agent’s shameless manipulation of the conversation, the former Autopsy-Gremlin stiffened in his chair and nearly dropped the glucometer he had been using to test his blood-sugar levels. 

“Yes,” Ziva drawled, her focus now shifted, “How is life as the Big Fruit?” 

Snorting a bit at the anachronism, as it was her worst butchering of the English language to date, Gibbs shook his head as he patiently corrected her. 

“Big Cheese.” He growled. “You mean the Big Cheese.” 

As Ziva looked thoroughly confuddled by such a correction, understandably so, Jimmy finally managed to recover himself enough to give a coherent answer. 

“It’s going great, actually.” Jimmy informed, a small smile on his lips. “I have at least five new visitors every day.” 

Still not entirely comfortable with the casual use of such a term to describe cadavers, whether from Ducky or his prodigy, Gibbs scowled by his menu and tried to push out all thoughts of the rotting bodies he had been forced to encounter in his service at the NCIS. 

“Being in charge must be a hell of a perk, too.” Kate readily assumed. 

Before his younger counterpart could stammer out an answer, Ducky took the onus upon himself. 

“Oh yes!” Ducky beamed, a proud gleam in his eyes. “You really must see him at work, Caitlyn. Jimmy here, you’ll find, can bark out orders just as well Jethro can.” 

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” Tim quipped, his own snort (thankfully) concealing Gibbs’s. 

Looking offended on his boy’s behalf, Ducky glared weakly at Tim and all but missed the sore look he was now receiving from the embarrassed medical examiner. 

“I do not…’bark’ out orders.” Jimmy huffed, looking insulted at the insinuation. “I... just give my suggestions…loudly.” Cheeks flaming bright, he added. “It gets loud in my autopsy, as you know.” 

“You were most certainly not just ‘giving out suggestions,’ when I visited, young man.” Ducky scolded. “I know an order when I hear one.” 

Absurdly embarrassed for his mentor to give voice to the fact that he was proving himself to be a competent leader, Jimmy nibbled at his bottom lip and looked longingly toward the door. 

“Well,” He finally recovered, “I shouldn’t have to ‘ask’ them to do anything. They work for me now.” 

“Goddamn.” Gibbs drawled, proud of the young man himself. “Look who finally found their backbone.” 

Before such a remark could earn him any sort of censer from Ducky, or perhaps even Jimmy, Tony spoke up with a quip of his own. 

“Everyone had a backbone, Papa.” He innocently educated. “It’s called the spine.” 

“He’s got you there, Boss.” Jimmy sassed, actually daring to smirk his way.

Interrupted by the arrival of their waitress to take their drink orders, Gibbs clever suggestion that the Autopsy Gremlin get that smirk off his face was lost in the chaos of several people trying to order at once. Thankfully with a little help from a no-nonsense Ziva, who helplessly ordered them all to shut-up and take their turns, the situation was quickly rectified. 

“Abbs?” Kate asked, when at last their waitress was able to make a getaway. “Did you bleach your teeth?” 

Having not noticed Abby’s smile to be any whiter than usual, Gibbs turned to the Goth in question and noticed her eyes had gone wide. 

“Yes?” She fibbed, trying to hide her teeth behind her lips. 

“You have not.” Ziva accused, peering closely at her. 

Even though she gave Gibbs an expression that seemed to convey she knew she had been caught, Abby still struggled valiantly to keep her pregnancy a secret. 

“Are you saying my teeth are yellow?” Abby frowned, more for show than anything else. 

“You could not have bleached your teeth.” Ziva sniffed. “I saw you eat a chocolate cupcake just this morning.” 

Sending her friend a look that promised future retribution, Abby slumped in her chair and made a great show of pretending she had not heard the Israeli speak. 

“There is only one reason you would give up your dice of coffee.” Ziva deduced, narrowing in on her target without mercy. 

“Vice, Ziva.” Jimmy meekly corrected.

Ignoring the Medical Examiner’s correct, Ziva narrowed her eyes at Abby. 

“My point is still standing.” 

An uncomfortable silence settled over the table then, its sheer intensity infecting the normally immune Tony even, until (at long last) Tim and Abby exchanged two of the biggest shit-eating grins Gibbs had ever seen. 

The first to accurately deduce the meaning of such a look, or perhaps just the first to vocalize it, Kate squealed loudly and jumped to her feet – very nearly upending her glass of beer into Ducky’s lap. 

“I’m going to be a Godmother!” 

“Hold your cows.” Ziva frowned, tugging Kate back into her seat. “Tony is the one who will be the Godfather.” 

While it was a fair assumption, Tim couldn’t help but seem to gloat as he corrected the Israeli. 

“Actually,” He smirked, “Kate and Tony can each claim a baby.” 

In much the same manner as Kate, Ducky lurched to his feet from his sheer excitement and looked ready to squeal. Thankfully for himself, as well as all involved, he managed to refrain himself. 

“There are two!?” The older man questioned, looking nearly as elated as he had upon the discovery of the upcoming Palmer baby. 

“Yes.” Abby smiled, touching her flat stomach. “There are definitely two in there.” 

“Girls!?” Kate pestered, eyes all aglow. “Are they girls!?” 

Quickly saving Kate’s glass of beer from upending, yet again, Gibbs sat back and watched the chaos unfold with a fond smile – having spent the last two weeks missing such banter almost more than he could bare. 

“No!” Ziva cried, giving into the excitement, “Her face is glowing! They are boys!” 

Before a full-scale argument could break out, much less a physical one, Tim held up his hand for attention and waited until all was calm to speak. 

“We’re actually waiting to find out.” He exclaimed, looking nowhere near as excited as his girlfriend was at the though. 

“Until when!?” Ducky demanded. 

Clearly not amused at the idea of waiting to shop for the approaching McGee babies, as he was currently happily doing so for Jimmy’s future child, Ducky all but pouted as he flopped back into his seat. 

“Birth.” Abby grinned, her smile the only really genuine one.

Because while Gibbs certainly respected her wishes as a mother, he found it nearly impossible to restrain himself from finding a way to peep into her medical files to unravel the mystery for himself. 

“But how will I know what get for the baby-sprinkle!?” Ziva demanded. 

“They’re babies, Ziva.” Gibbs grunted. “I hardly think they’d care what you bought them.”

Either ignoring Gibbs’s advice, or simply pretending not to hear it, the Israeli continued on with her pestering of McAbby. 

“I cannot buy a boy pink clothes!” She frowned. “What will people think?” 

Not at all amused with Ziva’s ridged adherence to gender roles, Ducky frowned and wagged a warning finger at her. 

“I’ll have you know that infant boys were actually dressed in pink up until the 1940’s.” 

Bored with all the ‘unimportant’ talk, or perhaps wishing to move the conversation along to a topic that wouldn’t cause any hurt feelings, Kate spoke loudly over whatever retort Ziva was currently mumbling. 

“Jimmy,” She smiled, “Have you found out what you’re having yet?” 

Sharing a brief grin with Ducky, Jimmy turned to the rest of them and shrugged his shoulders in defeat. 

“Yes,” He admitted, “But I’m not allowed to share just yet.” 

“But – “ 

Cutting Kate off with a sad smile, Jimmy sighed aloud. 

“I’m sorry.” He sympathized. “But my wife is still angry about me telling you about the baby in the first place.” 

As the excited young man had shared such information when his wife could have been no more than a few weeks along at best, Gibbs sympathies were of a less-indulging nature than were Ducky’s. But rather than spoil the mood of the evening by giving voice to such a thought, Gibbs charitably stepped in to defend the boy from further interrogations. 

“If anyone else has any news they’d like to share, clearly now is the time to do it.” He grumbled, sounding nowhere near as gruff as he might have wished. 

“I bought a Bull Mastiff.” Ziva deadpanned. “His name is Hershel.” 

Having always believed the Israeli to hate the idea of pets, after what happened with her camel back in her home country, Gibbs was actually surprised by the news. As was Tim, apparently. 

“Ziva,” He grimaced, “A dog that size could you for breakfast and still be hungry by lunch.” 

Taking an unnecessarily long sip of her win, Ziva glared at Tim as she set her glass aside. “I have trained him to bite those who annoy me.” 

Not willing to surrender so easily, Tim offered a quip of his own. 

“If that’s the case, how do you ever let him out of your house?” 

Thankfully launching into action before Ziva could stick her fork into Tim’s eyes - or more to her character, his neck, Tony leaned across the table to tug at the Israeli’s sleeve. 

“Ziva! I want to see the puppy!” 

Indulging the impudent behavior where once she might have admonished it, the dark eyed Israeli awarded the boy a smile before gently extracting his fingers from her blouse. 

“Hershel is no puppy.” She lectured, not unkindly. “He is a large three-year-old.” Seeing Tony’s crestfallen face, she quickly added, “But you may come one morning, and watch me train him for his next show.”

“How on Earth did you find yourself participating in dog shows?” Ducky queried, more amused than shocked. 

“The first time Hershel won me $5,000.” 

Giving a low whistle at the staggering amount, Tim shook his head in disbelief. 

“All that because your dog can bark better than his competition?” 

Subtly removing any cutlery from the Israel’s grasp, as well as her wine glass, Gibbs pulled Tony closer to himself as he awaited her wrath. 

“Hershel can complete feats of agility you could only dream of.” She growled, more tamely than expected. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Abby grinned, touching her stomach.


	62. Chapter 62

Seated in his favorite chair at the kitchen table, long years having worn down the wood to shape his ass just perfectly, Gibbs sipped away at burned coffee Abby had made him just moments ago and typed at a particularly troublesome report he had brought home to work on. And while the cold-case’s solving most certainly wasn’t of the utmost importance, Gibbs relished in the precious few moments he had been given to be alone as McAbby occupied Tony in the living room on his behalf. In fact, his only real complaint where regarded the evening had absolutely nothing to do with the cold-case and everything to do with his currently less-than-stellar babysitters. A matter only further solidified in his mind, when he heard, yet again, another swear word drifting in from the living room. 

“MOTHERFUCKER!” Tim bellowed, his voice hoarse after a long hour spent losing at one of his videogames. 

 

“MCGEE!” Gibbs growled, slamming his coffee down upon the table. “DON’T MAKE ME GET THE SOAP!”

While he had harbored doubts about the appropriateness of washing the young man’s mouth out with soap, for the benefit of teaching Tony not to cuss so vulgarly, all such moral qualms about the action evaporated after the seventh swear. 

“Sorry, boss.” Tim called back to him, more out of habit that remorse. 

Sighing loudly his displeasure in response, far too lazy to get up and slap the back of the miscreant’s head, Gibbs turned back to his cold-case and once more pondered how a sergeant could be murdered in the midst of a night-club with nary a witness to the crime. 

“GODDA – “ 

“ABIGAIL!” 

There was a guilty silence in reply to his reprimand, and Gibbs’s patience finally wore itself thin as a result of such childness. Slamming down his work-issued computer, as its case had already been damaged by his accidental dropping of it down the basement steps, he stomped toward the living room – his mind made up to investigate the cause of McAbby’s great wrath and Tony’s suspicious silence. 

“What is going on in here!?” He growled, making all three of them jump. 

While the scene certainly looked innocent enough, with Tim and Abby squeezed up close together on the couch with matching blood-red controllers, and Tony seated at their knees with a pink controller not really connected to anything, Gibbs knew well enough to know that there was some sort of mischief going on. 

“We keep getting killed, boss.” Tim explained, sheepishly looking at the television he had hooked one his PlayCubes to.

Giving his sternest look to the young man, as well as a softer version to Abby, Gibbs looked expectantly at the screen. 

“Alright, let me see.” 

Earning himself a patronizing shrug in response from the couple, Gibbs seated himself on the floor beside his boy and watched, in minor amusement, as Tim and Abby were utterly obliterated in the space of five minutes. 

“You’re leaving your sixes exposed.” Gibbs lectured. “That’s why you keep getting shot.” 

“We already tried having each other’s backs.” Abby pouted, throwing her controller down. “But all that happens is the one doing the guarding gets shot first.” 

“Besides,” Tim added, looking highly sore at having been defeated so soundly so often in front of his girlfriend, “This isn’t real combat. It’s fake.” 

“No.” Gibbs said with a smirk. “It’s a game you’ve been losing to for the past hour.” 

And with that, he snatched up Abby’s semi-sweat controller, fiddling about with the damn Nintendo accessory until, at last, he thought he was holding it correctly. 

“You think you’re going to beat this level when we can’t?” Tim challenged, more surprised than snarky. 

“Once I figure out the controls, I will.” 

Exchanging a quick glance with Abby, one that seemed to convey a whole ten minutes of silent conversation, Tim looked back to him with a smirk. 

“Care to make a wager, Boss?” 

“Why not?” Gibbs shrugged. 

“Fine.” Tim grinned. “If you can’t beat this mission within an hour, you have to change the oil in my car as well as Abby’s hearse.” 

Seeing as he would have done both had they just asked him outright, Gibbs readily agreed to the terms. 

“And when I do win within the hour?” Gibbs pressed. “What then?” 

“We’ll tell you what we’re having.” Abby supplied, touching her stomach.

Having wagered more money than he cared to give a though to on what the sex of the approaching McGee babies might be with the remainder of the team, as well as involved in a dreadful squabble with Ducky over whether maternal acne leant itself toward the making of boys of girls, the stakes were all but too high to pass over. 

“Deal.” Gibbs grunted. “Now how do I get to a practice-mode on this thing?” 

Being informed there was no such thing, Tim started him at the beginning of the game and left him to his own devices, seeming a bit cocky as he surrendered control of his campaign to the older gentleman sitting near him. 

“Alright.” Gibbs grunted, after only a quarter of play. “Bring me back to that mission.” 

“Are you sure you’re ready, Gibbs?” Abby asked, bottom lip folded in concern. 

Ignoring the ageist concern, Gibbs turned to Tony and grinned. 

“You got my six, Monkey?” 

“Always, Papa.” Tony agreed, touching his controller to his father’s. 

That said, Gibbs launched into the campaign with gusto, his clumsy fingers slipping only once near the start of the ordeal. And thusly ignoring the advice yelled out to him by two babysitters who meant well, and engaging with the toddler who only wished to encourage him, Gibbs then made his victory in exactly twenty-three minutes, the time only lengthened by his having to repeat the mission when his controller ran out of battery. 

“That was actually kind of fun.” Gibbs grinned, rising to his feet. 

Leaving McAbby to stew in their defeat, and promoting Tony to personal-gloater for the time being, Gibbs then strolled into his kitchen for a well-earned beer – the genders of Abby’s babies all but forgotten when compared to his thirst. Still riding on the high of his victory, Gibbs didn’t even bother to look at his ringing cellphone before answering, all too-sure it would be Ducky calling to further stake his claim in the betting pool. 

“Hello, Agent Gibbs.” Came a smarmy voice from the other end. 

Blood running cold, and his thirst all but forgotten, Gibbs stepped through his kitchen door out into the backyard for privacy. 

“What the hell do you want, DiNozzo?” 

“Custody.”


	63. Chapter 63

Gibbs had spent the entirety of that remaining night deep in a sleepless turmoil, the very real fear of his child being stolen from him and thrust into the negligent care of an abusive Senior having very nearly send him into several fits of anxiety and consternation somewhere near dawn. And though he told himself was behaving hysterically, refusing to let his child out of his sight, the merest suggestion of a chance that Tony should be cruelly snatched away from all he knew, as well as all those who loved him most, was a cruelty he almost couldn’t bear to think about. In fact, so poor was the dismal state of his mental health at the start of a brand-new day, that Gibbs had even considered packing up Tony after breakfast and heading off toward the general safety of Canada – perhaps moving them to an area so remote that not even he, himself, would know their coordinates. 

Had it not been the all-knowing Ducky, who seemed to have accurately predicted his best friend’s desperation, Gibbs might have even gone through with such a thoughtless plan – simply leaving the breakfast dishes to fester in their water as he plotted out the path least likely to be searched for their existence. 

“All will be well, Jethro.” Ducky readily assured him, lying a soothing hand on his shoulder. “A quick visit with the judge and this will all be behind us.” 

Although Gibbs knew his friend only meant to be comforting, and was by no means as nonchalant and unbothered as he was currently pretending to be, the empty promise still drew a nervous scowl from his lips. 

“We shouldn’t even have to be here.” Gibbs groused, glaring about the hallways of the courthouse. “Tony is my son, not Senior’s.” 

“This is a mere formality, Jethro. Nothing more.” Ducky calmed, giving his shoulder a tight squeeze. “No judge worth his weight in salt would surrender custody of Anthony to Senior.” 

Before Gibbs could so much as quip that nobody in their right mind would give that sorry excuse for a man a goldfish to babysit, much less a living person, two burly bailiffs came out of their assigned courtroom and beckoned them forward with synchronous waves of their hands. 

“Godspeed, Jethro.” Ducky intoned with a wry smile. “I shall await your victory on this bench.” 

Giving his closest confidant a brief nod to convey his appreciation, Gibbs swallowed down whatever anxiety he felt and resolved to stay calm. It would not do, after all, for him to his lose his temper and prove himself incapable of caring a toddler. A feat easier said than done when he walked into the courtroom assigned them and saw the smarmy asshole standing proudly on his side of the room with a small team of lawyers surrounding him and fussing over his appearance like he was some sort of goddamn celebrity. 

To Gibbs’s great relief, Judge Stone seemed entirely unamused with the entire charade, his grey eyes going all but stony as Senior and Co. made a great show of organizing great stacks of papers and Manella envelopes on the table they’d been given for their workstation. 

“Mr. DiNozzo,” Judge Stone intoned, glancing pointedly at the clock, “If you’re quite finished fiddling about with your papers, I’d like to begin. My daughters have violin recitals this afternoon, and I do not plan to miss them.” 

“Of course.” Senior grinned, his smile as thick and slimy as used oil. “I wouldn’t dream of keeping you from your child. That would just be cruel.” 

Bristling as the man proved himself to have the audacity to send a petulant look his way, Gibbs dug his fingernails into his palms and quickly set to work counting to ten as Ducky had earlier advised. Because as much as he wished to punch both of Senior’s eyes closed, he was wise enough to know that such an action likely wouldn’t go over well doing a custody case. 

“Mr. DiNozzo.” Judge Stone warned. “You will refrain from antagonizing the defendant.” 

Looking vaguely mutinous, up until the point one of his lawyers pinched his arm, DiNozzo spoke his agreeance to such an order through tightly-clenched teeth. The insubordination not failing to register with unsmiling magistrate, Judge Stone glared at him until the smarmy man looked away at his papers in a gesture of reluctant humility. 

“Mr. Gibbs,” Began he, when at long last he deigned to speak, “How long has the Junior Mr. DiNozzo been in your custody?” 

“Before or after his…injury, Your Honor?” Gibbs asked, seeking clarification. 

Once more glancing at the clock, Judge Stone sighed and messaged his graying temples. 

“For the sake of preserving the specification of this case, let us focus on the time he spent in your care whilst injured.” 

Having no need to calculate the time in his head, as Gibbs was all-too-aware of the date his child had been poisoned, he was proudly able to quickly give the impatient judge his answer. 

“Four months, Your Honor.” 

Lazily scribbling something down on a spare sheet of paper, Judge Stone idly fiddled with his gavel as he contemplated his next line of questioning. 

“During this time, Mr. Gibbs, was the Junior Mr. DiNozzo ever left in the care of Senior Mr. DiNozzo?” 

“Never!” Gibbs barked, more harshly than he might have wished.

Looking far from pleased at either his response or angry tone, or perhaps even both, Judge Stone gave him a warning look before resuming his interrogation. 

“And why is it that you found fit to exclude DiNozzo Senior from the caring of his child, Mr. Gibbs?” 

Though there was no apparent accusations in the magistrate’s tone, Gibbs couldn’t help but sense them in the words nonetheless. But rather than launch into a lengthy tirade about what a sorry excuse for a father the other man truly was, and thus harm his case with his lack of calmness, Gibbs took another big breath and steadied himself before speaking. 

“I’ve been Tony’s medical proxy since the second year he joined my team on the NCIS.” He explained. “During that time Mr. DiNozzo never once showed any interest during the many times Tony was sick or injured, even when called to explain the severity of the situation.” Taking a calming breath, Gibbs continued. “In fact, the only time I’ve known that man to visit his ‘son’ was when he needed to coerce a favor out of him. Mr. DiNozzo didn’t even know Tony once had the plague up until a couple weeks ago.” 

Nodding along to the narrative, though approvingly Gibbs knew not, Judge Stone then turned to the cockiest asshole in the courtroom. 

“Mr. DiNozzo,” Intoned he, a stern frown on his thin lips, “How do you answer these allegations.” 

“Well, Your Honor,” Senior began, his voice sickeningly sweet, “With all due respect, we are here to discuss the custody of a disabled Anthony – not my parenting to a fully-functioning adult Anthony.” 

“We are here to discuss what I say we are here to discuss.” Judge Stone growled, grey eyes flashing dangerously. “Now, Mr. DiNozzo, answer the question.” 

The saccharine expression on his face lessoning only to a smaller degree, DiNozzo didn’t miss a beat as he answered the question. 

“I didn’t know about my son’s illness because, that’s true.” He admitted. “But that’s only because Tony never bothered to call me and tell me he was sick in the first place.” Putting on a smile that might have better disarmed a naïve playgirl rather than a worn-out judge, he tactlessly pressed on without any restraint. “And as for Mr. Gibbs’s assertion that I only ever called to engage my son for favors, well, that just isn’t true. I called him every year on the nineteenth of June to wish him a happy birthday.” 

“Mr. DiNozzo,” Judge Stone drawled, looking at a sheaf of paper, “My records show me that your son’s birthday is in July.” 

Not even missing a beat, Senior laughed at himself. 

“Yes, July, that’s what I meant.”


	64. Chapter 64

ng endured nearly half-an-hour or rigorous and invasive questioning, during which time he was painstakingly forced to restrain himself from attacking Senior with the water pitcher left on his table, Gibbs was finally able to heave a sigh relief when the questioning finally started to taper down toward a natural conclusion. And while just that morning the very idea of having his answer to the custody debate would have greatly unnerved him, it did not so any longer as he was all but certain said cards were about to fall in his favor. 

“So, Mr. DiNozzo, let me see if I have this correct.” Judge Stone intoned, lazily swinging his gavel about. “Not only has Mr. Gibbs been providing the care of a father to the junior Mr. DiNozzo for the past several years, but so too has he provided the entirety of care to the injured Mr. DiNozzo as well?” 

Though there was no real trace of ire in the magistrate’s perfectly even tone, Gibbs could detect a certain hostility in the man’s expressive grey eyes. But if Senior took note of any such expression, he clearly chose not to heed it, his great arrogance provoking him into arguing a point so flimsy it would make the rebuttled of elementary debate club look sophisticated. 

“Your Honor, I did invite the boy to be upcoming wedding.” 

“Mr. DiNozzo,” Sighed Judge Stone, his tone becoming clipped, “What size shoes does your child wear?” 

Looking every bit like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights, Senior froze and remained mute for the greater part of a minute before one of his more impatient lawyers jabbed him in the ribs with an angry elbow. 

“Twelve.” Senior hazards to guess, quickly recovering his smarmy smile. “He wears a twelve.” 

With what might have been and eye roll, the impatient judge turned to Gibbs and raised a particularly hairy eyebrow. 

“Mr. Gibbs, what size does your boy wear?” 

“Tony wears size fourteens.” He easily provided. “I bought him a pair just last week.” 

Such an unexpected shopping expedition having been brought about, of course, by his boy’s inexhaustible curiosity pertaining to what would happen to his old pair of shoes if he stuck them in the oven. 

Glancing down at his small stack of notes, and immediately looking as satisfied a man with his dour countenance could, Judge Stone stood and glowered at Senior.

“This court hereby finds in favor of Mr. Gibbs retaining custody of the Junior Mr. DiNozzo.” With a dramatic bang of his gavel, he turned to look at Gibbs. “It also highly suggests that the custodial agent considers taking out a restraining order for all parties involved in the filing of this emergency custody hearing.” 

Thus declared, with little to no emotion, Judge Stone strolled back into his chambers and left Gibbs to collapse gratefully into his seat right as Senior launched into a colorful tirade about his incompetent lawyers losing the case for him. Waiting until the explicative-laced tantrum taking place beside him had come to a close, such a fit being quickly followed by the sounds and sighs of Senior all but stomping out of the room, Gibbs finally rose to his feet and made to make his own exit – the thought of taking his boy to get ice-cream to celebrate taking up a great portion of his faculties. 

Fully expected a calm scene within the hallways of such a respectable establishment, as well as expecting to find a half-asleep Ducky perusing the science journal he had brought along, Gibbs was taken quite aback to find a small ruckus taking place outside the courtroom doors – Senior with a bloodied nose seeming to be the clear culprit. 

“What happened?” Gibbs demanded, looking at a not-so-innocent looking Ducky. 

“It seems this fine gentleman has tripped.” The Medical Examiner announced, loudly enough for a pair of approaching bailiffs to lower their speed.

Face as red as the blood dripping from his nose, Senior stepped hastily away from Ducky’s helpful hand and nearly tripped down a staircase. 

“You tripped me!” He accused, clutching at his nose. “I saw you stretch your foot out.” 

“I was stretching, yes.” Ducky admitted, not looking a but remorseful. “But you ought to have been more careful, my good Sir. We are very dangerously near that stairwell, after all.” 

“I’ll sue you.” Senior threatened, still dripping blood until the pristine white tiles. 

“That doesn’t seem to be going all too well for you at the moment.” Ducky quipped, sharing a knowing look with Gibbs.


	65. Chapter 65

Though the September wasn’t exactly cooperative with their plans to have camped outside in the backyard that weekend, Gibbs still found himself keeping up his end of the bargain, his desire to have his boy all to himself for the duration of two full days an outright necessity in his eyes after Senior had dared to make so boneheaded a move as to seek custody. But rather than risk exacerbating Tony’s scarred lungs by encamping them out in the frost covered backyard, as well as run the risk of tearing up his yard to drive the tent stakes into the semi-frozen ground, Gibbs improvised and soon had their plans come to fruition – albeit just not in the way they had earlier anticipated. 

Having exhausted the vast stores in his linen closet to achieve such a purpose, as well as the majority of bedding in the guest room, Gibbs had painstakingly (if not artistically) draped the entirety of the fabric rectangles over the carefully rearranged furniture in the living room – making, for all intents and purposes, a massive tent out of his formerly organized living space. 

“Alright, Monkey.” Gibbs murmured, looking down at the sleepy boy standing to his right. “Are you ready to go inside?” 

Vivid green eyes still a bit sleep-clouded from his afternoon nap, Tony frowned blearily and buried his head into Gibbs’s chest, a distinct and concerned whine emanating from his throat as he wrapped his arms tightly about his waist. 

“Hey, Kiddo.” Gibbs crooned, ruffling his hair. “What’s the matter?” 

“I still sleepy.” Tony whined, only further burying his face in the fabric of Gibbs’s shirt. 

Even though his child had just experienced a good thirty-minute nap, the nature of which had been a sleep so deep that a series of adorable sleep-talking had occurred, Gibbs sighed and rubbed his fussy boy’s back, fully prepared to give in and allow the boy yet another half-hour of sweet shut-eye. 

“Let’s go in and pick out a space to nap.” Gibbs suggested, planting a kiss atop the dark brown curls. 

Still too exhausted to take any initiative by himself, Tony simply clung to his hand allowed him to lead the way, his drooping eyes never once widening until Gibbs pulled back the blanket-flaps concealing the entrance to the tent. 

“Like Narnia.” Tony whispered, looking entirely overwhelmed. 

Plainly seeing that his toddler was quickly on the way to becoming over-stimulated, and insufferably cranky as a result, Gibbs quickly stepped in and pointed at the air mattress he had set up in the midst of the tent, its position a perfect distance away from the television to make viewing a movie pleasurable and not at all a chore. 

“Let’s lie down, Son.” Gibbs hummed, gently pulling the boy over to the bed. “We can watch Tangled.” 

Much too tired to voice a preference for Frozen, the likes of which had been carefully hidden behind the refrigerator, Tony nodded drowsily and allowed Gibbs to help him up unto the mattress, his limbs all but floppy and uncoordinated in his sleepy haze. Once he was sure the toddler was suitably encompassed by a small horde of blankets and pillows, he crawled in after, his knees popping a bit with the action even though the mattress was impossibly soft. 

“Are you all snug and cozy?” He hummed, allowing the boy to rest his head on his shoulder. 

“Cocoon.” Tony mumbled, eyes drifting dangerously near to shut. 

“You are a little caterpillar, aren’t you?” Gibbs grunted, holding his closer. 

Yet unable to forget the very real fears the custody case had evoked in him, Gibbs closed his eyes and his child tightly, thoughts of the daughter whose loss he had been powerless to control violating his mind. God help him, he thought, he could not bare to lose another kid – not in any way or fashion. It would kill him, simply kill him. 

“Papa?” Tony pressed, his own eyes still closed. 

“Yeah?” He grumbled, still holding him tightly. 

“Why sad?” He warbled, poking his cheek. 

Still lost in thoughts of the daughter he had lost far too soon, Gibbs yanked himself back into reality and was surprised to find a little moister and dripped out of his left eye. Quickly swiping it away, in the hopes he could pretend it had never existed, he cleared his throat a few times before opening his eyes. 

“I miss Kelly.” He explained, his throat damnably tight. “It’s her birthday this weekend.” 

“We should bring her a cupcake.” Tony opinioned, big eyes boring into his soul. 

Thinking of the way Kelly had always favored cupcakes with bright frosting, just as Tony did, Gibbs found himself nodding at the idea. 

“Yeah,” He sighed, “We should.”


	66. Chapter 66

Tony awoke rather fuzzy-minded, his head and thoughts all astir with wild emotions he could not quite understand in such a state of abject disorientation. Frazzled, as well as unnerved by such a foreign phenomenon, he rolled helplessly unto his belly, hoping for a soothing sleep to overtake him and make him forget such unnamed woes. When he awoke from such a slumber, thought Tony, his perspective would be a great deal better and his emotions more easily handled. That plan in mind, he snuggled up against the small mound of pillows cover his bed, the soft and sweet-smelling fabric a very welcome greeting for he who was so confused and lost. It was only as he twisted and turned a bit, all the better to fully drape his quilt over his frame, that he suddenly realized one of the participating factors behind his vast discomfort. 

Soft and nestled firmly against his nether-regions, the crinkling fabric protested softly its complaints as Tony snaked a hand down his pajama bottoms to better investigate and prove the loathsome objects existence to himself. When, at last, he had reassured himself that he really was clad in the protection meant only for infants, his confusion only increased tenfold – its sheer rawness and intensity provoking from his lips a shrill cry he had not even had time to stifle in a pillow. 

Just what the hell had happened to him for someone to have provoked such an outrage against his person?   
At first, it was terrifying thought that he had been kidnapped that assailed Tony – his long list of enemies (both free and imprisoned) making such a thought more rational than ridiculous in nature. But, he soon reasoned, breathing in heavily the familiar scent coating his bedding, what kidnapper would even deign give their hostage such comfortable accommodations? It made no sense, and if that was the case, logic dictated such a scenario could not be so. 

His next thoughts steered toward Abby, his general consensus being that he had crashed in her bedroom after a night of heavy drinking. But that thought was soon dismissed as well, for Tony knew as well as anything that the forensic expert would never dress her bed in such soft pastels, nor would she embarrass him by entrapping him in such a foul garment when he was not able to defend himself against such an unwanted attack.

It was only as he dismissed that latest farce that a great feeling of anxiety and terror overwhelmed, the very sudden realization that must be once more in a hospital unsettling him to no end. It was a reassurance of the plague he hastily assured himself, already feeling his scarred lungs struggling to draw in air as his panic quickly settled in. Either that, or pneumonia, the vile virus all but deadly for one whose lungs were already so dangerously compromised. 

All at once tears rose to his eyes, the stinging and salty liquid burning hot tracks down his face as he sobbed into his pillows, his very real fear of dying very nearly threatening to overwhelm him and send him into a fit of nerves most childish. 

It simply was not fair that he was to die just then, not when he had found himself so very happy in his life as it was. For not only had his work and social life been at the peak of perfection, so too had his relationship with Gibbs reached that special point of father-son bonding that he had once only ever dreamed of. That he should perish just then, and leave Gibbs to deal with the loss of yet another child, was a thought far too cruel to tolerate. And so it was with great rigor that he found his sobs being renewed, the loud mewling and hitching of breath stemming forth from his lungs almost without permission.


	67. Chapter 67

Gibbs was enjoying his first coffee of the morning when he heard the cries of distress coming from his child’s bedroom, the sounds all at once distressing and alarming to he who had become so familiar with his son’s habit of awakening with a small smile and twinkle in his eyes. That his son should awake so distressed could mean only one thing – Tony was either wounded or in the process of being kidnapped by Senior. 

Rightfully alarmed at the though of either scenario occurring, especially on his watch, Gibbs all but threw his mug down unto the floor and rushed from the kitchen, his feet seeming to move on their own accord as he directed them through his house and up the short stairwell. Once arrived at the hallway dividing the rooms of his upper floor, he all but leaped over to Tony’s bedroom door in six large bounds, his lungs practically devoid of any air as he threw open the door to investigate the cause for such a great disturbance. 

To his relief, though such a feeling came in small amounts, there was no major injury or trespassing Senior to greet him. No, his only real greeting came in the form of a wailing toddler, said creature either caught in the throes of a hellish nightmare or else dealing with the aftermath of such an experience. For, Gibbs rationalized, there could be no other cause for such hysterics. 

“Hey now,” He crooned, coming quickly to sit on the bed beside his child, “What’s all this now?” 

While a young Kelly would have initially stubbornly refused to admit she had suffered a nightmare, her tendency toward stoicism something she had inherited from her father, Tony gave no such pretenses and he flung himself into Gibbs’s arms, his green eyes perfectly wild and fuzzy as he clung unto his shirt for dear life. 

“Breathe, Monkey.” Gibbs instructed, rubbing the sobbing boy’s back. “Breathe.” 

Though it took him a great while to finally register the advice, much less heed such wisdom, Tony did, at last, take a deep shuddering breath. More relieved at such a noise than he ever though he could be, Gibbs finally allowed himself the privilege of relaxing – the eventual realization that his boy would not work himself up to the point of fainting precipitating such a happy event. 

“Did you have a bad dream?” Gibbs inquired, swiping away Tony’s still-falling tears with the sleeve of his shirt. “C’mon now, talk to me.” 

Giving Gibbs a decidedly queer look, one the denoted a great portion of confusion and turmoil, Tony blinked several times and blushed as he mumbled out his answer. 

“I – I thought I was in – in – in the hospital again, Boss.” 

Too preoccupied with the thoughts of seeing his child soothed to be too concerned or offended at the boy’s sudden lack of using Papa, Gibbs gave Tony a tight squeeze and kissed his temple. But to his great distress, as well as hurt, that act of soothing only seemed to aggravate and embarrass his boy, and he soon found Tony squirming away from the embrace and wriggling toward the general ‘safety’ his headboard, seizing only a pillow to clutch for comfort. 

“Tony,” Gibbs frowned, not knowing what else to say, “You’re not at the hospital. You’re here, at home – with Papa.” 

It was only as Tony blushed a vibrant shade of rose that Gibbs finally realized he might not be dealing with an entirely ‘small’ child anymore. And though that thought saddened him to no small degree, especially considering he had been given no time to prepare for it, he immediately set about to clarifying matters for his clearly confused son. 

“Tony,” He sighed, closing his eyes, “How…old are you right now?” 

Sniffling a bit and breaking eye-contact with his boss, the man frowned and swiped angrily at his eyes. 

“C’mon, Boss.” He weakly teased, bottom lip trembling. “You’re not that old.” 

Ignoring the inference that his memory going with his advanced age, in favor of focusing on the problem at hand, Gibbs rolled his eyes to mask his sorrow at losing his little boy so suddenly and massaged his temples.

“You don’t remember anything about the last few months, do you?”

Blinking in surprise at the question, Tony looked out his bedroom window and frowned at the sight of the red and orange leaves gracing all the trees within his view. 

“Gibbs,” He cried, a panicked look forming in his eyes, “What day is it?!” 

“It’s September, Tony.” He informed, putting a comforting hand on his knee. 

Reasonably perturbed at the thought of losing several months, his poisoning having occurred in late spring, Tony closed his eyes and trembled as he hugged at his pillow. 

“You were poisoned, Kiddo.” Gibbs educated, unable to bare the sight of his boy in any sort of distress. “You were practically a toddler for the last several months.” 

Visibly recoiling at such a thought, his embarrassment painfully clear, Tony glared at the floorboards as if he hoped they would swallow him up and help him conceal his shame. 

“Who – who took care of me?” He asked, his voice impossibly small. 

Unable to tolerate his boy’s clear refusal to be comforted, Gibbs scooted gracelessly across the bed and pulled the mortified man into a hug, the brunettes struggles to be free feeble and all but fading away to nothing as Gibbs held firmly and rubbed at his back. 

“Do you even have to ask?” He grumbled, resting his head atop the dark curls. 

“No,” Tony sniffled, still sounding small, “I think I remember a little bit.”


	68. Chapter 68

Having given both themselves a full two weeks in which to process the sudden shift in dynamics, a time-frame in which all friendly visits had been denied in purpose of encouraging full recuperation and emotional healing for the both of them, Gibbs abruptly decided one Friday morning that enough time had passed to allow themselves to adjust to their new state of being and, as such, a sort of celebration was in store. And while, at first, Tony seemed hesitant to face all those who had seen him in such a regressed state, his great longing to see his beloved Abby again won out against all such reservation and soon it was agreed a bit of bowling would do them, meaning the whole team, a great deal of good. 

As it was thus decided via a long stretch of unrelenting text-messages that they would meet at the usual bowler, with the specifics themselves being taken over by an over-eager Kate, Gibbs set about wrangling a sleep-deprived Tony into his truck a good half-hour before the event was set to begin – as rushing the young man had never once worked to his favor.   
“We’ll have an early night tonight.” Gibbs promised, glancing at the dark circles beneath his son’s eyes. 

For while had gradually become used to letting Tony take charge of his life once more, in gradual increments, the facts still remained that while great progress was made in some areas where concerned the new independence, there were still a couple areas in which additional help and time were needed. The most prominent of these delayed milestones being the ability to self-sooth and lull himself to sleep without any additional aids. 

“Can I sleep with you?” Tony pleaded, green eyes wide with hope. 

Having only just started the process of weening his boy away from bed sharing a week ago, during which time-frame neither of them had slept restfully, Gibbs was highly reluctant to set back any miniscule process by allowing his child such an innocent request. But one look at the longing look on Tony’s face, one small glimpse at his wobbling bottom lip, and Gibbs was defeated. 

“Just for the night, Monkey.” Gibbs obliged. 

With those few words alone, Tony was upon him, wrapping his muscular arms about his neck in a still somewhat childlike fashion. Quickly returning the embrace, as well as thankful that such open displays of affection had not decreased in quality nor quantity, Gibbs ruffled his hair and savored the moment awhile longer before pulling away.

“You’re going to have to learn how to sleep on your own again.” He gently advised.

But even as he said it, he knew he would not, could not, push the matter beyond a mere suggestion. For such as Kelly had once refused to fall asleep without a bedtime story until she was a full seven years old, so too would he oblige his only remaining child in such a simple pleasure. 

“I will.” Tony promised, more relieved than earnest. “I promise.” 

Satisfied with the promise, at least for the moment, Gibbs fished his keys from his pocket and tossed him to the younger man, thinking it high time he set about seeing if Tony was, as of yet, capable of driving once more.


	69. Chapter 69

Given it was a Friday evening, and that particularly day of the week given the honor of hosting half-price beer and appetizers, the Bastard’s Bowler was nearly packed beyond legal capacity as Gibbs guided Tony inside and worked to locate the two lanes Ducky had inexplicably managed to bribe away from a small and drunken frat. Hoping against hope that Scottish man had not secured for them lanes four of five, as both had a decidedly aggravating habit of jamming at the most inopportune times – namely whenever a game-winning strike was set to be achieved by either Gibbs or Tim. 

“It’s crowded in here.” Tony fussed, snaking out a nervous hand to clutch at the back of Gibbs’s jacket. “Don’t lose me, Papa.” 

While Gibbs would have chocked that remark up to playful sarcasm less than half-a-year ago, and rewarded such with a half-hearted headslap, he heartily embraced both the term of endearment as well as the flattery that came with knowing his boy still looked to him for protection without any hint of shame for doing so.

“I have your six, Monkey.” He readily assured, making no moves to free his coat from such grabby fingers. 

Thankfully for the sake of both of their nerves, they soon located the rest of their team, the giddy and partially-inebriated members (sans Abby and a sympathetic Tim) situated in the seats directly betwixt lanes twelve and eleven. Greatly relieved to spot them all after a full five minutes spent navigating the drunken throng crowding the remaining lanes, as well as thankful to see a full pitcher of beer awaiting his appreciation, Gibbs tugged a nervous Tony forward by the hand and was delighted to see his face brighten (rather than sour) at the sight of his former team. 

“Abby!” Tony squealed, hurrying her way. 

Though he took great care not to smother the pregnant woman in a breath-stealing bear hug, the embrace Abby received from Tony was still exuberant and dripping with warmth. All but nuzzling his face into her exposed neck, he grinned sloppily and all but bit back laughter as the soon-to-be mother poked at his ribs and belly. 

“What,” Kate asked, when at last they pulled away, “No hug for me?”

Looking only slightly bashful, Tony hurried to oblige the skinny woman with a powerful hug – one that lasted one a fraction of a second before he was ripped away by Ducky to claim a hug of his own. But rapidly sensing that his child was quickly becoming a but unnerved at all the fuss being paid his way, especially now that he was an ‘adult’ again, Gibbs stepped in before any more hugs could be achieved and gently tugged his boy away from Ducky. 

“We paid for two hours,” He grumbled, “We might as well play two hours.” 

While the rest of the team looked a bit put out about not being able to coddle Tony as well, even Ziva herself, they readily agreed to the plan to start playing again – as well as began to make various bets that increased in absurdity as bowling balls were chosen and shoes laced up.

“Tony and the Bossman are with us!” Abby hastily called, dragging Tim along to claim aisle twelve. 

“Then I do believe Caitlyn and Ziva are with us, Jimmy.” Ducky quipped, sounding delighted with the pairings. 

And, truth be told, Gibbs could hardly blame the Scottish man for his enthusiasm – as Jimmy was notorious for pulling out impossible strikes and spares whenever his team was very nearly on the verge of losing. In fact, had he not had the sharp-eyed Tim on his team, Gibbs would have protested at Ducky having claimed Jimmy to himself yet again. 

“What team goes first?” Kate demanded, sipping at a brightly-colored cocktail. 

Pulling out a shiny quarter from her pocket, Ziva flipped it a few times before looking at the most honest of them – Jimmy. 

“Head or foot?” She demanded. 

“Heads or tails.” Tony corrected, not unkindly. 

Before Ziva could demand an explanation behind such an absurd phrase, Kate cut her off with an angry question. 

“Why does Ziva get to flip the coin?!” 

“What?” Ziva antagonized. “Do you not trust me?” 

Having walked into that one, the Israeli’s response to being taunted by Kate did not bode well for the latter. 

“No!” Kate insisted, her voice mirrored by Tim’s deeper one. 

“Why?” The dark-haired woman demanded. “Because I am Jewish?” 

“No.” Jimmy quipped, surprising them all. “It’s because you’re Ziva.”


	70. Chapter 70

Though by the end of October the weather had taken a turn for the colder side, a steady coating of frost now covering the grass in his backyard every morning, Gibbs decided it would be a great decision for everybody (meaning his son and team) to go camping over the Halloween weekend. For not only would the camping grounds be nearly barren at this time of year, so too was it early enough in the year that Abby wouldn’t be all to encumbered by her slowly growing belly. 

But rather than make use of the military-grade tents he still had in his possession, a relic from his grandfather, Gibbs decided that his father’s camper would be a better fit for a team that consisted of an expectant mother as well as one brunette and a Scott with impossibly high-living standards. 

“Leeroy,” His father mumbled, still half-asleep as he sipped at his coffee, “How the hell do you think you’re going to fit nine people in this goddamn thing?” 

Sitting up on the loveseat sandwiched in the rear of the camper, a complicated feat as Tony was currently resting his head on his lap, Gibbs grunted noncommittedly and gestured vaguely at the confines of the large camper. 

Gibbs quickly decided, coming up with sleeping arrangements as he went along. “Abby’s pregnant, so she can share the full-bed with Tim.” Pausing a few moments to get his planning solidified in his mind, as well as to save his cellphone from Tony’s syrupy hands, Gibbs pressed on. “Dad, you and Ducky can have the two bottom bunks.” 

“You think because I’m old I need to be near to the ground?” His father playfully challenged, raising a brow his way. 

“No.” Gibbs smirked, feeling quite bold with Tony sitting in front of him. “I think you need the bottom bunk because you get a hundred times a night to take a piss.” 

Ducky did as well, but Gibbs just didn’t think that additional bit of information was necessary, much less useful to the conversation at hand. 

“You little smartass.” His father grumbled, lobbing a pillow at his head. 

Easily dodging the projectile, as the older man hadn’t thrown it hard for fear of hitting his grandson, Gibbs gloated with a smirk and continued his planning. 

“Ziva can have the bunk above yours,” He quickly decided, “And Kate can have the one above Ducky.” 

“Wouldn’t the ladies prefer to share a bunk?” His father asked, the words half-concealed on a yawn. 

Seeing as how Ziva and Kate had very nearly murdered each other during their hellish team-building exercise earlier that summer, and had very nearly come to blows several times since then, Gibbs readily dismissed that foolish idea with a fierce scowl. 

“It’s best they don’t.” He advised, stealing a sip of his own coffee. 

“If you say so.” His father readily obliged, shrugging his shoulders. 

“I say so.” Gibbs grunted.

For not only was it murder he was hoping to prevent, but gossip as well. For, on the off chance that those two women got along just fine for the entirety of the trip, the remainder of the inhabitants of the camper would subsequently be subjected to nonstop gossiping – the nature and vulgarity of such greatly dependent upon whether or not Abby and Ducky chose to jump into the conversation or ignore it. 

“Knowing Jimmy, he’ll probably want to share with Ducky.” 

And, seeing as how both of the men were decidedly skinny and not at all adverse to human contact, Gibbs had no doubt that they wouldn’t be averse to such an arrangement. 

“And what about you and Tony, huh?” His father asked. 

“Tony and I can share the pullout loveseat.” He declared, garnering a smile from Tony in response. 

As the young man had finally started to sleep on his own just a couple of weeks ago, barring instances of nightmares or thunderstorms, Gibbs had no major reservations whatsoever about obliging him in such a manner for a couple days. And, if truth be told, he was just as excited about the prospect as was his child. 

“Papa?” Tony asked, a sudden hopeful look on his face. 

A bit worried at the expression, as it usually meant there was going to be an absurd request like ice-cream for supper or midnight runs to Taco Bell, Gibbs bit back a weary sigh as he answered. 

“Yes?” 

“Can we have smores?” 

Relieved that the request was for something so innocent, Gibbs grinned and ruffled the young man’s curls. 

“It’s not camping if we don’t have smores.” His father answered for him, his own smile on his face. “And now that you’re big again, I’m sure your Papa will even let you try a bit of my moonshine.” 

“A bit.” Gibbs repeated, firmly, before Tony could get too excited. “A bit.” 

Because while he was an adult again, once more, Jackson Gibbs’s moonshine was a very disorientating concoction for those who had not yet built up an immunity. 

“And you had best keep that stuff away from Ziva.” Gibbs advised. “She’s a mean drunk.” 

“You know,” Jackson observed, leaning back in his perch, “I think I’d like to meet this girl.”


	71. Chapter 71

The large fire his father had built for them all was crackling loudly as the team roasted their marshmallows over its bright flames, the beautiful and hungry tendrils perfectly roasting the sweets a delicious dark brown just perfect for melting the chocolate that rested beneath their slightly-stale graham crackers. 

“Who’s ready for spirit tales?” Ziva instigated, when at last she had finally managed to swallow down her smore. 

“I think you mean ghost stories, dear.” Jackson corrected, not having been given enough time to grow weary of the Israeli’s constant malaphors and butchery of the common American phrases. 

While Gibbs would have normally protested at such an idea, as he knew Jimmy was known to be a sufferer of night-terrors alongside Tony, he voiced no such protests as he did not wish to embarrass the newly adult DiNozzo or newly-confident Palmer. 

“Just as long as it isn’t one of Tim’s Boy Scout stories.” Kate stipulated, looking less than thrilled at the thought. 

“Hey!” Tim defended, mouth still full marshmallow. “My stories are HBO material.” 

“More like Hallspot material.” Ziva retorted, declining a second smore from Tony. 

Already sensing a quarrel brewing, especially if a hormonal Abby chose at any moment to intervene and defend her beau, Gibbs held up a hand to draw attention and opened his mouth to order them all to cut their shit when his dad beat him to the punch. 

“If you sorry lot don’t want to be picking your own switches tonight, I suggest you all hush up and start getting along.” 

All of them taking Jackson’s warning to heart, even Ziva (albeit reluctantly), they quickly settled themselves down to a more manageable excitement level and began to converse more politely than they had ever done with one another. 

“Alright, Ziver.” Tim antagonized, throwing up his hands in defeat. “If my stories are so ‘juvenile,’ let’s hear one of yours.” 

“Very well.” Ziva obliged, more smug than annoyed at the usage of her nickname. 

Despite his many claims to be fully rehabilitated back into adulthood, Tony scooted closer to Gibbs as the young Israeli launched into her narrative without any unnecessary preamble or theatrics. 

Lost in time, this story is told, about a woman, dark and bold. 

She walks the streets on a foggy night, with a hood on her head to hide from sight.

Her story starts one summer’s eve, beside the lake an evil deed. 

A thief stole her daughter’s life, and filled her soul with pain and strife.

On a moonlit night along the shore, two young lovers walked and more. 

In each other’s arms that night, they talked of love and held on tight.

In the morning they were found, their hands and feet with rope were bound. 

Eyes wide open a vacant stare, their souls are gone and no ones there.

The police did search for the one, an evil deed to be undone. 

In vain, they search to no avail, their efforts weak, lost, and pale.

A mother’s heart broken and splayed, a debt to justice went unpaid. 

She walked the streets at night alone, to make the sinners pay and atone.

She searched the shores by day and night, a vain attempt to make things right. 

And then one early morning dawn, she was found her spirit gone.

On foggy night’s times untold, she walks the streets dark and bold. 

She only walks the streets at night, within the fog to hide her flight.

All clad in black she walks alone, an evil soul she’ll make atone. 

She walks among the star-less night, sometimes seen beneath the bright streetlight.

All children know to be aware, least they see her standing there. 

They hurry home at the approach of night, sure that they would die at her sight.

So in the night if you should see, a woman in black, listen to me. 

Look not at her face I say, or with your soul you shall pay.

 

“Jesus Christ, Ziva.” Ducky exclaimed, looking decidedly pale. “Why have you not been involuntarily placed in therapy!?”


	72. Chapter 72

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last Chapter Folks!

Having endured a good three hours of moderately terrifying horror stories, the likes of which had clearly terrified Tony and Jimmy to no end, Gibbs at last called story-hour to an end right in the midst of Kate’s grisly narrative about a footless man who slowly nibbled off the feet of any kid foolish enough to sleep with their feet dangling off their beds. Because while the story was certainly cliché and moderately tame compared to the yarns Ziva had spun, it was that one which finally managed to send Tony scuttling to his side for his comfort. 

“But Boss,” Ziva protested, dark eyes gleaming mischievously, “Kate was just getting to the good part!” 

Before Gibbs could bark out that his announcement had been an order, rather than a suggestion, Ducky intervened with a reprimand of his own – his frown fierce as he waggled a scolding finger at the young Israeli. 

“There as absolutely nothing ‘good’ about that story, Caitlyn.” The Scottish man scolded, his paternal instincts on overdrive as he gently coaxed his former assistant unto his shaky feet. “I mean, for God’s sake, whatever happened to sitting around a fire simply to enjoy some silent comradery?” 

Thoroughly unfamiliar with the concept of being subject to Ducky’s ire, Ziva took to the scolding in stride and otherwise voiced no protests to assert her innocence in a such a matter. It was a sullen scowl, instead, that she turned to Kate and muttered something distinctly Yiddish under her breath, causing her fellow brunette to gasp and then giggle. 

“It’s fine, Ducky.” Jimmy asserted, his voice slightly trembling. “The stories were…good.” 

“Hush.” The Medical Examiner ordered, firm yet kind. “Those stories were grotesque abominations, and you know it.” Giving his charge yet another, stronger look, he then added, in a lower tone, “And just tell me James, exactly how many smores did you manage to sneak when I wasn’t looking?” 

Blushing like a naughty school-boy caught cheating on a test, Jimmy mumbled and looked at the dirt as he answered. “Four…and a half.” 

Looking slightly peevish at the unacceptable answer, Ducky tutted under his breath and grabbed the younger man by his elbow. 

“I do believe some insulin is in order then.” The skinny man declared. “As well as some sleep.” 

Wise enough not to argue with his father-figure when said man was in an uncharacteristically stern mood, Jimmy held his tongue and bonelessly allowed his mentor to shepherd him into the camper with a few stern words. 

“I think I’m going to call it a night, too.” Abby groaned, slowly climbing to her swollen feet. 

Most of her body having swollen in the early months of pregnancy, Tim immediately leaped to his feet to assist the expectant woman up the small flight of metal steps leading into the camper. 

“I’m right behind you, Babe.” The writing-enthusiast crooned in her ear, amorously wrapping his arms about her semi-expanded stomach. 

“Timothy!” Abby squealed, giggling as he ran his fingers along her ribs. “Not in front of the Gibbs’s.” 

“Is that the only stipulation?” Tim mumbled, nowhere near softly enough to avoid being overheard. 

Not anywhere near amused at the idea of anyone other than himself fucking in his camper, after having dealt with three years of his son doing the same during high-school, Jackson quickly leveled the computer-expert with a powerful glare that had even Gibbs cringing. 

“If I hear even one zipper being unzipped, your ass is grass, young man.” 

While he did not remove his arms from Abby’s body, Tim did move them several inches away from her breasts. 

“Understood, Sir.” 

Biting back a bemused smirk as McAbby spoke in unison and all but slinked into the camper with their proverbial tails tucked betwixt their legs, Gibbs stood and made to collect the discarded food and wrapped left on the ground. Quickly coming to conclusion that the longer they tarried their chances of being drafted into clean-up duty increased, Kate and Ziva ‘sneakily’ creeped into the camper just moments behind the young couple. Tony, on the other hand, ever his reliable boy, followed his example and was soon seen tying up the bags of leftover marshmallows – though, as he worked, the numbers concealed within the plastic seemed to greatly diminish on their own accord. 

“You head on in, Dad.” Gibbs encouraged, shooing away a curious squirrel. “I’ll tidy things up while you make sure nobody kills anyone.” 

“Oh, alright.” Jackson yawned, tousling his grandson’s hair. 

Embracing the affection, Tony beamed at his grandfather and wrapped him in a hug, his eyes drooping ever so slightly as he tried, and failed, to bite back a yawn of his own. 

“I’ll take this Monkey in with me, too.” The older man decided, effortlessly reading Gibbs’s mind. 

Although Tony looked like he wanted nothing more than to stay with his father, especially after so terrifying a story-hour, fear of being outside where might banshees reside soon won out over such desires and it was not long at all before the young man was all but pulling his grandfather toward the safety of the camper after a quick (very quick) good-night hug from his father. 

And though Gibbs was reluctant to leave him when he was clearly still frightened, he fought off the urge to go after him as he did not wish to embarrass him in front of his peers now that he was mostly adult again. Instead, he took his time in making sure the job of cleaning up the campsite was done well, until at long last, no bit of debris nor speck of ember was left to disgrace the grounds. Thus having taken him a good full hour to do, he found himself climbing into the camper at the witching hour of three thoroughly exhausted. 

As he had expected, he found most of the inhabitants of the campers either soundly asleep or on the verge of such. Snuggled up cozily on their full bed, Tim and Abby snored in a discordant and cloying fashion, their snorts and various whistles an evident amusement for the bleary-eyed Kate and Ziva who lay with eyes closed as they gossiped across the small space between their beds, his Dad all but oblivious to the noise going on above him as he enjoyed his slumber in the usual (and disconcerting) fashion of having his eyes half-opened. Quickly looking away from the uncomfortable sight, as Gibbs had never known anyone else to sleep in such an unseemly fashion, his eyes soon found a more harmonious sight – that being the image of Ducky softly murmuring reassurances into the ear of a painfully sleepy, yet terrified, Jimmy. Leaving his friend to tend to his boy all on his own, as Gibbs knew most parents wouldn’t take interference kindly, he then made to join his own son. 

It was with a concerned frown that he found the young man still wide-awake, his green eyes quite wide as he clutched his former baby-blanket to his chin with one hand and tightly gripped an impossibly bright flashlight in the other for dear life. 

“Papa!” Tony whimpered, immediately blushing as the childish term escaped his lip. 

“Monkey.” Gibbs murmured, quickly crawling unto the mattress beside him. “What’s the matter, hmm?” 

Pride be damned, Tony turned on the pull-out bed and clung tightly to him, his bottom lip trembling profusely moments before he buried his face in Gibbs’s chest. 

“I’m scared.” He confessed, the words muffled but perfectly distinct to a parent’s ears. 

Giving him a tight-squeeze, one that a younger Tony claimed could squeeze the fear right out of him, Gibbs ruffled his hair and patted his back a few times. 

“I thought you might be.” Gibbs sheepishly confessed. “I should have come in with you.” 

“I’m not a baby anymore.” Tony groused, though his grip not lessen by any degree. 

“I know.” Gibbs sighed, feeling a slight loss. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t be scared.” Planting a kiss on his dark curls, he continued to soothe. “How about I tell you a better story, huh?” 

“Which one?” Tony asked, his voice bashful and hopeful all at once. 

“How about your favorite?” Gibbs asked, having (by then) remembered Goodnight Moon by heart. 

“Please?” Tony whispered, green eyes full of joy as he turned his head to look at him. 

“Of course.” Gibbs grinned. “Anything for you.”


End file.
